Anytime but the Last
by faketreefinger
Summary: COMPLETE. Sara and Grissom think about the past to take their minds off of the pressure. Post Living Doll.
1. The Last Time

**Note: **This is kind of a companion piece to my story "A Nightmareless Slumber." It's how I got the idea, anyway. Do you need to read that? No, silly rabbit. However, I would... because. Because I want you to. Yes this is a work in progress, but have no fear. I won't leave you hanging. I don't do evil things like that.

**Chapter One: The Last Time**

Things were looking rather bleak, she had to admit. She was trapped underneath a… car? Oh God. Yes, her lower body was trapped underneath a car, sufficiently restraining her to the desert floor.

At least it was muddy instead of dusty. She wasn't altogether sure why that was a good thing.

Letting out an obligatory moan, Sara gripped weakly at the muddy dirt beneath her fingers. Her mind was becoming clearer, but it seemed bittersweet because now she was becoming more and more aware of how much pain she was in.

She pulled her hand back and wiped the saturated strands of hair from her eyes. She lifted her head to look around the best she could. It was dark, wet, and she felt more than a little cold. More than a little alone. More than a little scared.

She pulled at the lower half of her body, though she knew it would prove useless. The pressure became more pronounced and she winced in pain. There was no way in hell that she could withdraw herself from this situation. No way. She would have to wait until they could find her. Did they even know she was missing? She had no clue how long she had been missing and Grissom probably assumed she was at home resting. Grissom. Oh, no. He would be so worried. He would remain level-headed though. He had to. He had to find her.

God, she loved him. So much. She thought about the last conversation they had and she couldn't help but smile. So, there was that.

- - -

_"Remember why you came  
And while you're alive  
Experience the warmth before you grow old"_

_"The Warmth" (Incubus)_

- - -

"Hey," she said softly, leaning on the door frame of his office. He looked up from his laptop and pulled his eyeglasses off. He looked over the field kit and jacket in her hands and his eyebrows rose.

"Hey." He smiled and used one of his softer, more intimate tones to add, "Where are you off to?"

She inhaled a deep breath. "I'm going home for a little while. Get something to eat. Change."

"Sleep?"

She grinned. He probably knew how hard it was for her to sleep without him. He had the same problem and had told her as such. "Doubt it."

After a moment, he said, "Come in here a minute." She pushed herself from the doorframe and he added, "Close the door."

She pursed her lips and gave him a crooked grin. "Uh oh. What did I do?"

His only response was to smile slightly and stand up from his chair. He walked over to her and the smile grew.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"I'm thinking about kissing you," he replied in a low, seductive tone, his face serious.

"You better not," warned Sara, but it was impossible to keep the grin from spreading on her face.

"Just one?" he asked while running a hand through the strands of hair by her face.

She sighed dramatically and shook her head. Usually when the miniature killer resurfaced, Grissom was a hard guy to deal with. He was irritable, he barely spoke to anyone, he didn't eat, and sleep was pretty much out of the question. But this time it was different. They were closing in on him and Grissom's spirits were lifting in light of new evidence.

He dipped his head down and his hand moved to her arm, stroking lightly as his lips brushed hers. He placed a slow, gentle kiss on her lips. He began to deepen the kiss and Sara laughed, pushing him back with her hand.

"Hey, cut it out. You're going to get me in trouble."

"I cleared it with your supervisor. It's fine," he replied in his best business tone.

She backed towards the door, shaking her head. "I'll see you in a few hours. And I'll bring you back something to eat."

He smiled and plopped back in his chair. "Thank you, honey." When she reached for the doorknob, he added, "Love you."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. Turning her head back around, she found his eyes already glued to the laptop screen. That was a new one. He had never said that at work before. He only just started saying it regularly in the past few months.

"Love you too," she said and opened the door, not bothering to look back.

- - -

In hindsight, their last conversation had been rather foreboding. Completely out of the ordinary. If she had been superstitious she would have thought that at the time.

A kiss at work. An "I love you" at work. Terms of endearment at work (um. twice in one day).

They had been together for a few years and some change and Grissom had kissed Sara at work maybe three times. She had been just as shocked those times too. It didn't bother her that he wasn't affectionate at work. Quite the contrary. It had been an unspoken agreement, common sense really, that they wouldn't be affectionate at work. But he had served her a triple scoop of affection in the dark confines of his office. It was so ironic. He was the one to break the rules. Always.

At least her last words to him would be of love. Whoa! Last words? Where had that come from? Sure, those had been her last words to him but they wouldn't be her last words. She was not going to die. Was she?

No. Grissom would find her. No use in thinking like that. But it was too late. The seed had been planted and was being nurtured by the ever increasing pressure on her body and mind. Memories of their last moments together started flooding her thoughts. Last dinner, last movie, last time they made love, last time they went grocery shopping.

They had disputed about whether or not buying organic produce really mattered. He wasn't sure it did. She was.

Was this really it? Thoughts of "last times" did nothing but send her into despair when optimism was essential.

With another futile tug on her lower body, she decided that thinking about the last time she did, saw, or said anything would be a horrible idea and should be avoided at any cost. Since Grissom would inevitably monopolize her thoughts, she decided to think about their first times. All of them. Any time really. Any time but the last time.

_To be continued…_


	2. Very Bad Things and Very Good Things

**Chapter Two: Very Bad Things and Very Good Things**

Sara closed her eyes and whimpered. The pain in her body was a dreadful reminder of her mortality and she thought maybe now would be a tremendous time to remind her of something good. Grissom was good and he made her feel good. She hadn't felt quite so good in a long time before Grissom. Oddly, one of the worst memories she had overlapped with one of the best. It was true that sometimes, good things can come out of very bad things…

- - -

"_I hate to see you cry  
Lying there in that position  
There's things you need to hear  
So turn off your tears  
And listen"_

"_Heart of Life" (John Mayer)_

_- - -_

She was going to take a long walk around Desert Palm Hospital. The waiting room was stuffy.The paint on the walls was a hideously pasty taupe color that was probably named something ridiculous like "Crouton" or "Moose Antler". She rolled her eyes and stood up in a huff. This earned her a look from Grissom who was sitting in the chair beside her.

"You okay?" Grissom asked her and Warrick stirred in his position in the corner. He had been dozing quietly for the past ten minutes. She wished she could.

She nodded in Warrick's direction. "How does he sleep in these chairs? They're so uncomfortable."

Scratchy and too firm. They smelled of disinfectant, and for some reason it mattered that they were a rather unattractive purple color. "Plush Purple" or "Plum" no doubt.

Grissom frowned. "He's exhausted. Aren't you?"

Everyone but Warrick, Grissom, and Sara had gone home to sleep a few hours while Nick was in recovery. Grissom had insisted. But insisting with Sara often meant an unwanted argument and Warrick, though exhausted beyond measure, felt too guilty to leave.

Sara ignored the question. "I'm going for a walk. It's stuffy in here."

"If you want to go home, I promise I will call you as soon as Nick—"

She cut him off. "I don't want to go home, Grissom."

She really didn't .Despite her discomfort and distaste. Despite how utterly drained she was. Despite how much she wanted to change clothes… it was a hell of a lot better than sitting at home stewing over life and death. Every time she imagined Nick in that box, her lungs became smaller, her eyes became watery, and her skin crawled. It was too much.

Grissom understood this, she knew. He simply nodded and smiled sadly.

"I'll be back soon." He nodded again and she turned on her heel, exiting the depressing, taupe-colored room.

She wandered the hospital aimlessly with a bottle of Diet Coke in her hand that she couldn't seem to drink and a Snickers bar in her pocket that she couldn't seem to eat. She got off the elevator at the fourth floor and knew immediately where she was: the maternity ward.

The contrast between the waiting rooms here and the ones near the ICU was startling and obvious. The walls were painted soft and subtle shades of violet. Paints that probably had thoughtful, uplifting names such as "Dream Dust" or "Lilac Frost".

She walked down the hallway toward the babies that lay on the other side of a large wall of glass. She sighed at their tiny bodies. Some were screaming, some were sleeping, and others were simply taking it all in. So she admired them and couldn't help but smile. She had needed this. To see something beautiful and sinless in a city bathed in sin.

Her eyes landed on a rather chubby boy with staggeringly thick black curls. His eyes were open, as open as they could be, and he was silently staring above him. His mouth opened every now and then as if tasting the air.

She had never imagined herself a mother, but there was no point in denying the beauty of a newborn child. She swore her uterus skipped a beat.

She inched closer to the glass and whispered, "Hey there, little guy."

"Which one is yours?" a deep, familiar voice asked from behind her.

Making sure there were no rogue tears on her cheeks, she turned her head around and gave a tight laugh and a wry grin. "How absurd."

Grissom was standing before her with his hands in his pockets and a sad, crooked smile on his face. He looked fatigued and slightly pale, but he was still handsome and solid. He gave a visible swallow as he walked up beside her, facing the glass. They both gazed at the babies in silence for what was probably only a few minutes, but felt like many.

Finally Sara exhaled and said, "So tiny and vulnerable. So…" she trailed off and sighed again.

"Innocent," Grissom said, finishing her thought exactly.

Sara nodded. "They have no idea," she paused, "what they're going to have to face."

"No, they don't." She looked over at him to find him shaking his head from side to side. He looked sad and defeated and Sara wished she could hug him.

"Sometimes I feel like it's cruel to even bring a child into this world," she shared, maybe just to see what Grissom would say.

"I agree," he said immediately.

If she were expecting platitudes about how good life could truly be, she would have been rather disappointed. Grissom had a habit of playing Devil's advocate, just to make you think. It touched her that he had held back on that and was being truly honest with himself and her.

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it with her hand. He glanced over at her and his features softened as he reached out his hand to rest tenderly on her arm.

"Come here," he said in a low, intimate tone and he lightly pulled her into an embrace.

Somewhere underneath the dirt and grime of the last excruciating hours, Grissom smelled uniquely good. He smelled like warmth to her, like the color orange might smell. Some inviting color like "Autumn Harvest" or "Arizona Sunset". She rested her head on his shoulder and shed a few tears for innocence as his hand lovingly smoothed over her hair and back. She tried not to linger on the abnormality of the moment.

He was warm, soft, and beautiful. She had needed comfort and she had found it.

After what was many minutes, but felt like few, Grissom whispered into her ear, "I was looking everywhere for you."

The chill that ran up her spine caused her to pull back and wipe her tears again. "You found me."

It was possible that there was some sort of double meaning lingering in the moment, waiting to see who picked it up. Sara refused; she hadn't the energy.

He nodded and put his hand on the small of her back, leading her down the elevator. "Let's go check on Nick," he paused and inhaled an unsteady breath, "Then I'd like to take you home." She looked at him. "Okay?"

"You don't have to do that Grissom, really," Sara answered him with a small smile.

He looked over at her as he pressed the down button for the elevator. "I insist."

Insisting with Sara Sidle rarely did much good without a dispute. Rarely. But there were times when it did a lot of good and with a warm, caring look from Gil Grissom instead of a stern, condescending look from her supervisor, Sara was likely to concede.

She smiled sincerely. "Thank you."

_- - -_

She wondered vaguely if any good things would come out of this very bad thing. Nick's kidnapping had brought her and Grissom closer together; there was no doubt about that. From that moment on, Grissom was a different man toward her. She would look up to find him staring at her with an intense gaze. He would look away, only to look back and lock eyes with her. He continued to pair himself with her and she noticed more smiles being directed her way. It was obvious that he was losing a battle with himself and Sara thought, maybe that's how he wanted it. Though she couldn't really remember encouraging it much. It was part of the defense mechanism she had established regarding him: keep anticipation to a bare minimum.

Sara let out a sigh and for the first time since she had woken up in this nightmare, she smiled. He had surprised her with his confidence. Grissom was a confident man and he wasn't as socially inept as one might think, but he always seemed unsure of what to say around her. He hadn't seemed unsure at all when he suggested they go out on a date. She had every reason to turn him down and he knew that, however, he had been so smooth and maddeningly self-assured. She had almost found it obnoxious.

Sara chuckled at turned her forehead to the wet ground. Much later, he would admit to her that it was all just very good acting. His insides had been in turmoil with nervousness…

- - -

"_A warning sign  
You came back to haunt me and I realized  
You were an island and I passed you by  
When you were an island to discover"_

"_Warning Sign" (Coldplay)_

- - -

Sara threw herself onto the cool metal of the bench in the locker room and exhaled long and deep. It had been an excruciatingly hot day and she was extremely ready to bring this double shift to a close. She bent over and began untying her boots to change into the sandals in her locker when Grissom breezed in. She looked up and smiled at him as he passed by her to get to his locker that he had relocated to the back.

"Tired?" he asked and began turning his combination lock.

"I'm tired. I'm hot. I'm hungry. Pretty thirsty too."

He grinned and gave a rare chuckle that made her smile. "Is that all?"

"Did I mention that I'm hot?"

He paused and licked his lips. "I believe you did." He ducked into his locker and cleared his throat. "So what do you have planned this weekend?" his voice echoed off the metal in his locker.

She thought for a moment, but merely for show, because she responded with more than a little bit of humor, "Let's see… this… that… nothing. Absolutely nothing." She threw her boots in her locker and stood up to face him. "You?"

He closed his locker gently and turned to look at her. His face was straight, but relaxed. He licked his lips again and cocked his head to the side. "Actually, I have theater tickets for Saturday night. Turn of the Screw is playing at Las Vegas Little Theater. Pretty good seats, too."

"Sounds fun," she replied nonchalantly, trying not to think too hard on the fact that he said "tickets" instead of" ticket". "That should be a good show."

He nodded and moved closer to her with a look in his eyes that was affecting her more than she cared to admit. She was caught off guard and thought about moving back, but thought better of it. She stood still and he stopped walking when he was a little less than a foot in front of her.

"You're right. It's should be a good show," he said in a low tone that was undeniably flirtatious. It was surprising the way this man could turn something innocuous into flirtatious. "I'd like you to come with me."

She couldn't help it. Her eyebrows rose and her head turned to the side a bit. She cleared her throat. "What?"

He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. After a moment, he asked, "Not a Henry James fan?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed at how bizarre he was acting. It was a small laugh that only she could identify as one, but he had to realize how abnormal he was being. He was asking her out and flirting and he wouldn't stop looking at her like that. She decided that it might be fun to play his game, even if it meant anticipating.

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side to study him, hoping she could find a hint of nervousness. When she didn't, she gave an inward scoff. "Actually, I'm very fond of Turn of the Screw. I'm sure I would enjoy the play."

"I'm sure you would too," he replied, his voice just above a whisper, "And I think I would enjoy it a lot better if you were enjoying it with me."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. A slow, infuriatingly unworried nod. She could say no, but that would be pretty ridiculous considering she wanted to say yes.

She gave him a flirty once over and finally replied, "Okay. I'll go with you."

His face twitched into a smile and he bent over to pick up her duffle bag. He handed it to her and began scooting past her. His chest brushed against her bare arm and when he was alarmingly close to her ear, he said in a low tone, "Good. It's a date then."

"Mhmm." A date? Had he really verbalized that? This was all very shocking for her and she was growing angry at herself for being so obviously shocked.

He backed away from her and looked over his shoulder at the door to the locker room, making sure no one was watching them. "I'll pick you up at five on Saturday. How's that?"

She turned around to face him. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, "Sounds great."

He gave a smirk and she immediately felt bad for thinking about how funny it would be if he tripped or bumped into the wall. As arousing as his self-assured confidence had been, part of her hated herself for making it so easy on him.

"Okay," he said, "I'll see you then."

"See you then."

He left the room and Sara couldn't help it. She shook her head unbelievingly and wondered if that had been at all difficult for him to do.

_- - -_

Sara wished she had a watch on her free hand. She hated not knowing what time it was, it just made her feel more out of control and lost. The rain was tapering off and her body was shivering. She wasn't sure if she was really cold or if she was going into convulsions. Her mind felt weak and light as if any moment she mind slip away into slumber.

Her mind screamed at her to close her eyes and sleep and the pain began to taper off with the rain. Even in her haziness, she knew that the pain was still there. She wondered idly if it was like walking around all day in wet shoes and socks. After a while, your brain got used to it and paid it less and less attention.

Very good things had come out of very bad things, this was true. But perhaps nothing good would come out of this. Perhaps all of the good things she was destined to have she had already had. Perhaps maybe she should be happy about that.

Maybe… maybe she was meant to die out here.

_To be continued…_

* * *

**A/N:**Thank you sooo much for your reviews. I really like hearing from you guys. It totally helps with the writing process that I know you guys are into it. But thanks for reading even if you don't review :) The next chapter should be up in a day or two!_  
_  



	3. Necessary, and Altogether Impossible

**Chapter Three: Necessary, and Altogether Impossible**

Jim Brass stepped into the interrogation room to find Grissom staring blankly at Natalie Davis as she rocked back and forth, singing manically. Grissom glanced up at Jim and his face slowly transformed from vacant to horror and bewilderment. Jim walked over to him with an unsure look on his face and two officers entered to escort Natalie out of the room.

The air in the room felt thick and Grissom found it hard to breathe suddenly. Taking a heady breath, he said quietly, "She's not responding to me. She wouldn't tell me anything except that she didn't kill her." He hit head flat hand on the table and shook his head. "She won't stop singing that God-forsaken song!"

"We're not completely at a dead end here, Gil. I mean… she had to get that car out there somehow," Jim finally said. Grissom merely nodded and stood up.

After running his hands tiredly over his face, he replied, "I have to get out of here. I have to go somewhere."

"Gil, this is rough, I know." Jim's voice was low and strangely soft. Grissom's jaw clenched and his eyes dropped to the floor. "But you have to stay focused. Losing faith won't do Sara a bit of good."

Grissom felt angry at Brass for suggesting that he was losing faith, but he realized that he was right anyway. He was losing it. Keeping calm and composed is what led them to Nick and it would lead them to Sara too. He had to have faith in that. But he also needed to escape the dense, disappointing air of that interrogation room.

Grissom sighed and looked up at Jim. "I need to take a few minutes. I need to clear my head."

Jim nodded and Grissom left the interrogation room, hoping the air would change. He walked down the hallway to the water fountains and took a long drink of the sickeningly luke-warm water, trying futilely to force the lump down his throat. He felt like throwing up as images of Sara, his Sara, fighting for her life, alone and scared in the middle of the desert, flooded his mind.

He threw open the men's room door and was relieved to find no one in there. He grabbed one of the stall doors and slammed it as hard as he could. He hoped the loud noise didn't draw anyone to the bathroom. After a moment, he sulked over to a sink and stuck his hands under cold water. He splashed it onto his face and reluctantly glanced up to see his reflection. He looked pale and old. A fair amount of stubble was forming on his cheeks and he ran a rough hand over top of it.

The wonderfully clear memory of Sara shaving his five-week scruff came rushing back to him suddenly, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to smile or cry…

- - -

"_It's hard I must confess  
I'm banking on the rest to clear away  
Cause we have spoken everything  
Everything short of I love you"_

"_Hundred" (The Fray)_

_- - -_

"You trust me?" Sara's asked as she smirked at him in the reflection of the mirror. She turned around, still smiling wryly, and padded over to him wielding his straight edge razor in her right hand.

He didn't answer right away. The moment seemed to call for more than a simple "yes." He was very aware at how adoringly he was gazing at her as he replied, "Intimately."

Her mouth twitched upward slightly and he knew she accepted his reply. He might have kissed her if not for the shaving cream she had gingerly and diligently applied to his face. Instead, he gave her a subtle wink and cocked his head to the side, closing his eyes in a silent gesture for her to proceed.

She laid her left had lovingly beside his right ear, perhaps to give herself leverage or maybe just to touch him. Grissom couldn't help but open his eyes and watch her for a moment. A wave of love and desire came over him as he watched her face turn serious as if she were hovered over a microscope or dusting for prints. He closed his eyes again with the realization that someone other than himself had a very sharp blade alarmingly close to his carotid artery… and he really didn't have a care.

Quite the contrary. He was enjoying it. He was feeling rather aroused by it, actually.

After a few minutes, he peeked an eye open again as she ran the blade over his chin. He found her biting her lip obviously suppressing a smile. Her eyes connected with his and a smile widened on her face.

"What?" he asked huskily and cleared his throat.

She ran her thumb over the dimple in his chin and pinched it lightly. "Nothing." Her nose scrunched up adoringly and she pursed her lips.

He let out a low chuckle and placed his hands on her hips. He lifted her shirt just enough for his fingers to make contact with her skin. He ran his thumb over her skin, then pinched her nonexistent love handles lightly just as she had done and was awarded with a tiny yelp and giggle.

She began running the blade down his left cheek, but stopped and peered up at him. "Stop smiling or you'll mess me up."

He scoffed. "Can't help it," he said in a low tone.

"Try."

"You stop smiling and then I'll stop smiling, how about that?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly and she looked back down, continuing.

"Close your eyes, then."

With one last grin, he did as he was told. She finally finished a few minutes later and wiped away the shaving cream residue with a warm wash cloth. He opened his eyes to meet hers and she cocked her head to the side to study him.

"Not bad," she finally said. "What do you think?"

Without missing a beat, Grissom replied, "Perfect."

She laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him from the edge of the counter he was leaning on. "You haven't even looked!"

"I don't have to."

"Humor me," she said and pushed him towards the mirror.

He approached the mirror and leaned into it closely to admire her work. Not a nick in sight. No missed spots. He ran his hand over the soft, newly-exposed skin.

"Just as I said. Perfect, my dear," he told her and met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

"Why, thank you," she smiled.

"Have you done this before?" He turned to face her and raised his eyebrows in question. Slowly, he began walking towards her.

The closer he got to her, the more her grin spread. She backed up and began shaking her head "no" from side to side, slowly. She hit the counter and her eyes widened in surprise. When he reached her, he placed a hand on either side of her and leaned on the counter. The smile on her face and in her eyes slipped away and was replaced by desire. He could feel his own desire for her burning throughout his body.

He leaned down slowly and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. He lingered for a moment and felt her sigh against him. His hands left the counter and came to rest on her hips as he leaned into her more so she could feel his body's reaction to her. His lips slowly made their way up her jaw line. When he reached the sensitive spot just below her right ear, he stopped. His left hand slid around her waist and he pulled her to him in a tight embrace. She buried her face in his neck as her hands came up to hug him back.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes to take in the intensely intimate moment. And overwhelming feeling of love washed over him and he began to wonder why on Earth he found it so hard to tell her how he felt. He had no problem showing her, after all. She deserved to be told. She deserved it every day.

Her hands slid down his back and she pushed them into the back pocket of his jeans. "What are you thinking?" she murmured against his shoulder.

His heart sped up as he hesitated. Finally, he leaned into her ear and whispered huskily, "I love you, Sara." He kissed her ear and she pulled back, gazing at him lovingly.

"And I love you, Grissom," Sara said quietly and he grinned back at her, feeling utterly blissful.

She pursed her lips in that lovely way she frequently did and brought her hand up to the back of his head to pull him down to her. Their lips met in a tender, slow kiss at first until Sara nipped his bottom lip. He grunted and felt her smile against his mouth as his tongue slipped past his lips and hers.

After a few minutes of fervent kissing, Sara pulled back, breathless. She ran her hand over his now bare cheeks and smiled. He stepped back, taking both of her hands with him, and led her into the bedroom.

---

Sara had deserved to hear it. Every day. And he thanked God that his last words to her had been of love. And hoped to God that she was remembering that right now.

Sara deserved for him not to lose faith in her, either. Lord knows she never lost faith in him. No matter how badly he seemed to screw up, she always forgave him. She never gave up on him.

His latest lapse in judgment had been a big one.

Although his intentions had been innocuous, Grissom had realized all too late that it didn't look good from Sara's perspective. He had spent the entire night talking to Heather without even letting Sara know where he was or what he was doing.

That might have destroyed any amount of trust he had built with her… but she hadn't let it.

---

"_What if I got it wrong?  
And no poem or song…  
Could put right what I got wrong,  
Or make you feel I belong  
What if you should decide  
That you don't want me there by your side  
That you don't want me there in your life."_

"_What If" (Coldplay)_

---

He caught up with Sara as she walked across the dimly-lit parking deck towards her car.

"Sara!"

Her eyebrows raised in question as she turned around to the sound of Grissom's voice. "Hey," came an unenthusiastic reply. "I didn't know you were in the lab."

He walked closer to her and sighed. "I wasn't. I just got here."

He had just come back from Heather's house after introducing her to her granddaughter. He felt good about that, but felt that there was a horrible mess to be cleaned up with Sara. And he didn't know where to start.

"Oh."

"Where are you going?"

She looked around the parking deck and shrugged. "We closed the case."

Grissom nodded. "I know."

"And I'm tired…"

Letting out a sigh, Grissom stepped closer and took the heavy kit from Sara's hand, intending to carry it for her. "Can we talk about this?"

It was Sara's turn to give an exhausted sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm tired, Griss."

"I know, but we really need to talk about this."

"And I really need to get some sleep."

He wondered if she was just making an excuse. The case hadn't been a terribly difficult one, after all. He decided calling her out on it would be unwise. He put his hand on the small of her back and began leading her towards her car.

"Where are you going?" he asked again.

She rolled her eyes and looked over at him. "Home."

As they approached her car, he looked at her blank expression and was scared to ask which home she was referring to. But he did anyway. "Are you, um…" he stumbled and her eyebrow shot up.

"My place, Grissom. I'm going to my place." She took her kit from his hand and unlocked her doors.

He bit his lip. "Oh." She popped the trunk open and set her kit down in it. He stared at her, unsure of what to say, as usual. "I'm guessing I'm not invited."

She seemed amused by his comment and she huffed out a short, ironic laugh. "Let's put it this way: your bed is a lot more comfortable than my couch." She slammed the trunk and he winced.

He was about to comment that he would rather stay with her, even if it meant sleeping in the other room, but doubted she even wanted him there… couch or not.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Will you call me when you wake up?"

She sighed and sat down in the driver's seat, hand lingering on the door. "I'll see you tonight, Grissom." After a moment, she added, "At work."

He winced again as she closed the door and wondered if he had broken this beyond repair.

He went home, rather tired himself. He took one look at the bed and decided that the dog could have it all to himself that night. With a sad sigh, he retired to his own couch.

"Are you punishing _yourself_?"

Grissom's eyes shot open at the sound of Sara's voice. She was hovering above him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. A book lay half open on his chest and his glasses had slid down his nose. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping, but his neck hurt and his feet were freezing. He sat up and folded his glasses.

"You should, you know. Punish yourself," Sara said and sat down beside him.

He folded his hands and looked over at her with a sad smile. "I know."

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

Bruno came over and began licking his hands. "Hey, boy," he said and looked back at Sara. He took a deep breath and frowned. "Well…" he exhaled, "It's a big bed. It's a lot bigger when there is only one person in it. Feels kind of empty and… decidedly uncomfortable."

She pressed her lips together and ran her fingers over Bruno's head and down his back. "I didn't sleep very well either." She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and shrugged.

"Sara please let me explain," he pleaded in a gentle, patient voice.

She leaned back on the couch. "I'm not sure how you're going to explain this one, Griss. But by all means… explain."

He leaned back against the couch too and turned to look at her. "I'm an ass. I should have called you. You shouldn't have had to hear it from Catherine."

"That's not really an explanation. More of an apology."

For some reason, he wanted to smile. Instead, he sighed. "I know. I don't think any explanation would be sufficient, anyway. There was no excuse for my behavior."

She scoffed and a long moment of silence ensued. Finally, she turned her body more so she was facing him. "Did you sleep with her?"

His eyes widened in alarm and his head shot up. "Sara, no! I'd never do that to you!"

She shook her head and waved her hand. "No, not the other night. Have you _ever_ slept with her?"

His features softened and he took a deep breath. "No, never."

"Hmm. Catherine thinks you have."

"Well, Catherine's clueless."

Another moment passed and Sara frowned. "I'm sorry; it's just hard to believe that nothing happened between you two, that's all." Grissom's mouth opened to reply, but Sara continued, "I mean, I saw how she looked at you. And I saw how you looked at her. The tension in that room was palpable, Grissom."

"Years ago, we kissed. That was it. Nothing ever came of it. I promise."

"But you care about her."

"Not the way I care about you."

She looked down at her hands and back up at him, a smile forming on her lips. "But you care about her," she repeated.

"I consider her a friend. I care about her the same way I care about," he paused and shrugged, "about Catherine."

"Have you ever kissed Catherine?"

He laughed and looked away. "No. No, I haven't."

She waited a moment and tugged on his shirt causing him to turn and face her. He was rewarded with a crooked smile. "You see why this would upset me. Don't you? You see why it looks bad? Why it hurt?"

He nodded and felt a crushing sense of guilt and melancholy as she admitted to him hurting her. He furrowed his eyebrows and took one of her hands in his. "Yes. I see. I'm so, so sorry."

She nodded. "I know you, Grissom. I know that when you do things like this you don't mean to hurt me. But you have to start paying attention to stuff like this. Because one day—"

He cut her off, not wanting to hear the end of that particular sentence. "Sara, I promise. I will. I'll make this up to you."

She nodded again and stood up, pulling on his arm. He stood up beside her and hugged her tightly. She pulled back and gave him a quick kiss.

"You know how you can make it up to me?"

"Name it."

"I'm craving that delicious kumquat salad you made not too long ago," she said with a smirk.

Grissom smiled as she laid her head back onto his chest and wondered what the hell he had done to deserve such a wonderfully forgiving woman in his life.

---

Grissom couldn't help but smile, but the uncomfortable lump in his throat had only grown in size as he reflected on the past. And now a nervous feeling had gripped his gut and wouldn't let go, making him feel even sicker. He had to compose himself so he could focus on finding Sara, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the more he thought about her.

He splashed his face with water again and looked up as he heard the door open.

"We may have a lead," Jim said quickly, with an urgent look on his face.

His heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"Nick and Warrick may have found the tow truck service that Natalie used to get the car out to the desert. Mick's Towing Service just off the strip. You coming?"

"Yeah," Grissom breathed out and exited the bathroom with Jim.

However painful it may be to get his hopes up, he had to if it would help preserve his sanity. Thinking about the past wasn't doing him any good. He had to focus on the future. If he thought for a second that he wouldn't see Sara alive again, it would do nothing but cloud his judgment and perspective. Jim was right; it wouldn't do Sara any good to lose faith.

She had certainly never lost faith in him.

_To Be Continued_

**Note: **Once again!Thank you so much to the lovely reviewers of this story. You guys are what make me push forward with it. You're awesome. I hope you'll keep reading and reviewing!


	4. Neither Wealth, Nor Splendor

Thank you sooooo much to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are great and you're why I keep writing. I love knowing someone is enjoying my muse.

This chapter is the why this story is rated M. I tried to keep as much of this chapter as I could , but to be honest, I definitely hacked off a lot so that it could comply with _this_ website. The entirety of the chapter is posted at Geekfiction and my own live journal site (which is my homepage). So if you want to read the "real" version, head on over there and check it out.

Thanks again guys. MWUAH! I love you!

----------------------------

**Chapter Four: Neither Wealth, Nor Splendor**

Grissom's heart pounded in his ears and he neither saw nor heard a thing as he made a beeline to his office. He needed a place to think.

Catherine intercepted him as he walked past the break room. He didn't stop as she shouted his name, so she caught up with him in his office.

"Jim just called and told me about the tow truck service," she said as she sat down in front of his desk.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah. That was pretty much a bust."

Catherine shook her head and sat down. He looked at her face and found unmistakable worry and fatigue. "Maybe someone else should try and talk to Natalie," she tried and Grissom put his head in his hands. He wasn't in the mood to brainstorm with anyone. He just wanted to be left to himself to think and stare at the mini crime scene Natalie had left him.

"By all means, have at it," he muttered behind his hands.

"I just don't get it. Why would she have them tow it to an abandoned warehouse? It doesn't make any sense. How did she get it to the desert?"

"My guess is she used more than one tow truck service to throw us off. We just haven't found the other one. The other _ones_ even," he replied, throwing his hand in the air in frustration and letting it hit his desk hard.

"And Nick and Warrick are still behind that?"

"Nick, Warrick, _and_ Greg. It's really all we have right now. Now that the rain and wind are dying down we need to get the helicopters in the air," he said tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose in pain.

He was developing a migraine and he needed his medicine. But it was at home. He suddenly remembered—Bruno. He had no idea when the last time he had been outside or fed. He needed to do that. But the dog was at home.

He couldn't go there. He wasn't sure how he would handle being surrounded by her. He looked up at Catherine and debated asking her to do it. She would get empirical evidence that he and Sara were intimately involved, that was for sure.

But none of that mattered.

"Catherine, I need a favor…" He hesitated for a moment and opened his mouth, only to close it again.

"Gil…?"

"I need you to go to my place and get me my migraine medicine. It's in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. It's the only prescription bottle in there."

"Oh. Okay."

"And… I need you to let my dog outside and feed him."

Her eyes widened slightly and he could tell she wanted to question him about the dog. She had no idea that he had a dog. For that matter, she had no idea he had Sara. He hoped she wouldn't ask. It wasn't a story he cared to get into at the moment.

"Sure."

He was relieved that she didn't try to alleviate her own natural curiosity at that moment. He felt thankful and he gave a weak smile.

"Thank you, Catherine. I really appreciate it." He was certain she knew he was thanking her for more than one thing.

"You're welcome," she said quietly and stood from the chair. She looked reluctant to talk for a moment, but finally turned around when she reached the door frame. "Gil… I think maybe it would be a good idea if you went home yourself. Took a little break."

He stood and shook his head. "I can't Catherine. No." _Is she insane?_, he thought.

"It might feel good to change clothes. When is the last time you ate?"

"Catherine, please." He paused and sighed, not wanting to get sharp with her. "You need my key." He took the key off of his key ring and placed it in her outstretched hand. "Bruno's leash and food are in the pantry." Her lips pressed together and she gave a sad nod. She turned to go and he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him in question and he hung his words back a moment. "I think... once you get there…you'll understand better why I didn't want to go home myself." He gave her eyes a quick glance before starting down the hallway to Conrad Ecklie's office.

It was true. Catherine would have no doubt about his and Sara's relationship status once she entered his, their, home. Sara was all over the place. Her favorite foods were in his refrigerator, his cabinets. Her clothes were in his dresser, his closet. Her shoes were by the door. Her picture in his office. A purple throw blanket was folded neatly on the arm of his couch. It was hers.

One of his fondest memories had its start on that couch. He had thankfully bought a brand new couch only a month or so since him and Sara started spending time together. It was more inviting and comfortable, a favorite investment of his now. Many nights had been spent curled up on that couch watching a movie or reading.

But one memory always sprung to mind when he thought of that couch. One night in particular. He had invited Sara for lunch and a movie. After lunch, they sat on the couch and her head eventually found its way to his shoulder. His arm to her waist. He couldn't really remember how, but Sara had ended up fast asleep, her head and left hand resting innocuously on his left thigh. She lay on her side, her legs curled up adorably on the plump, dark blue couch cushions.

--------------------

"_Quaking leaves and broken light_

_Shifting skin, the coming night_

_The bearers of all good things arrive_

_Climb inside us, twist and cry_

_A kiss on your molten eyes"_

"_Those to Come" (The Shins) _

--------------------

Grissom muted the TV as the credits rolled. He listened to Sara breathing. It was soft and steady and he knew she was fast asleep. She had been for a while and really, he had been paying more attention to that than the movie.

He turned the TV off and relaxed. He was getting used to this—having Sara close. They had been spending a lot of time together for the past three weeks, ever since he had invited her to that play. It hadn't taken Grissom long to discover that he had truly been an idiot to keep it from happening sooner. They had shared more than a few kisses. Some heated, some not, but nothing more. They hadn't even talked about anything too serious yet.

But Grissom couldn't deny his desire for her—there was just no point.

He sighed and rested his left hand on her hip, feeling her mellow breathing. In and out, in and out. The only light in the cool room was provided by the dimming sun. The only sound provided by her breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan above them.

It was a beautifully peaceful and quiet moment and Grissom couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease, which was odd for him because he always thought he would be awkward and unsure of having her in his home. Be that as it may, he really was relaxed. _This is the definition of tranquility_, he thought. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just content to touch and listen to her. He truly couldn't remember the last time something or someone had offered him this much tranquility.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but Sara inevitably stirred. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. Sara turned her body so that she was laying flat on her back, gazing up at him with heavy eyes. The hand that had been resting on her hip had made it way to her stomach and she smiled sheepishly up at him, placing her hand overtop his.

"I fell asleep," she stated seriously

"Yes. You did."

"Sorry," she laughed adorably.

"Don't be," he said, still gazing down at her lovingly.

After a moment of staring, Sara lifted herself and leaned over awkwardly to kiss him. Her hand moved over his beard as she pulled him closer and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. He squeezed her hips as she deepened the kiss even more. All of a sudden, Sara let out a low chuckle and he pulled back.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

She shook her head and laughed. "This is kind of uncomfortable." He narrowed his eyes in confusion and she continued, "I'm twisting my spine is ways I didn't know I could…"

"Oh."

She smirked and lifted herself, straddling him. She lowered herself so that she made contact with his hardening erection. He closed his eyes and his head fell back on the headrest of its own volition.

She leaned into his ear and whispered low and seductively, "There. That's better."

He kissed her hungrily as his hands slid up and down her thighs. She grinded against him and whimpered erotically and he couldn't help bucking into her. Her lips broke from his and she began planting slow kisses down his bearded jaw line. She found his pulse point and gave it a wet kiss. Grissom began dragging his fingers lightly underneath her shirt and up her sides. He was rewarded when she shivered and grinded against him harder.

He half moaned, half grunted. "My, um…" he swallowed, "My bedroom is…" She kissed a sensitive spot below his ear. "Oh, God," he whispered and she gave giggle. "A ten second trip at most."

She took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged lightly. He sucked in a sharp breath and she giggled again, a low sultry giggle that sent a jolt of electricity from the top of his spin to his groin.

"Okay, fine. The bedroom it is," she whispered into his ear and extracted herself from him. His body craved hers immediately as she broke contact and stood up before him.

He stared at her for a moment, unable to move. Her hair was slightly disheveled—adorably so. Her eyes seemed dark with a strange quality about them that he had never seen before. This was Sara Sidle aroused and it was captivating. She lifted his heavy hand and tugged.

"Come on, handsome," she said quietly with a curious smirk.

Her voice also had that strange, aroused quality to it. He doubted very seriously that he would be able to hear it again without growing hard. At least not for a while.

He stood up beside her and pulled her to him, kissing her hard. She pulled back with a crooked smile.

"Bedroom, remember?"

He nodded and she walked backwards, pulling him along. He didn't take his eyes from hers the entire trip down the hallway and to his room.

Finally, they reached the dark bedroom and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Grissom pulled her to him. His hands clawed through her hair as his lips slid slowly and lusciously over hers. He heard her whimper and he began unbuttoning the dark blue blouse she was wearing. She tucked her hands under the band of his jeans and she pulled him closer as his lips trailed down her neck and in between her breasts, planting sweet kisses. He pulled the shirt off of her completely to expose a simple black bra. He pulled back to look at her. Hair was falling over her face and he brushed it back, revealing a shy smile.

"You are so incredibly beautiful. You know that?" he sighed and kissed her tenderly. "You have to know that."

She lifted his shirt over his head and threw it down. "So are you," she whispered back. "In so many ways."

He gave a crooked smile at the unexpected response and she pulled him with her as she began backing up towards the bed.

He walked with her and made quick work of his clothing, save his boxers, as she sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off her socks slowly. She chuckled at him and silenced her, pushing her down on the mattress, his lips hard on hers.

Physically, Grissom couldn't remember the last time he had felt this much pleasure—if he ever had. It was intense and beautifully overwhelming.

Emotionally, he was unprepared and incapable of cataloguing what he was feeling. He knew that he had never _made love_. He had never _been_ in love. But if there existed a doubt that he was in love with Sara, the doubt vanquished the moment they came together.

When they were sweaty and sated, Grissom lay down beside her on his side, as close to her as he could possibly get. She turned her head to look at him.

"Grissom…"

"Hmmm?" He swept the locks of hair off her face.

She inhaled and exhaled dramatically and shook her head. A short laugh released itself from her throat as she stared at the ceiling. Grissom smiled and chuckled with her. He couldn't put it into words and neither could she and really… he didn't want to try.

"Yeah," he said quietly and gave her a gentle kiss.

He laid on his back and pulled her to him. She gave a satisfied sigh as he dragged his fingers up and down her arm affectionately. Eventually, Sara fell asleep on his chest, but Grissom couldn't. He kissed her forehead and listened contentedly as she breathed in and out, in and out, evenly.

He had been wrong before. _This _was the definition of tranquility.

--------------------

Indeed, Sara was everywhere. Her shampoo was in his shower, her lotion on his sink. His 800 thread count sheets smelled just like her. Even on his side of the bed.

Normally, it would be a comfort to him. Right now, it would only serve to drive him off the deep end. The idea of being completely surrounded by her but having not knowing where she was ironically miserable and frustrating. But he didn't let himself believe for a moment that he would never again feel that tranquility he felt when she was curled up next to him, asleep and content. Not for a moment.

_To Be Continued…_


	5. Cloud Nine

**Note: **Once again, this chapter is very much MATURE. If you aren't into that... that's cool... but you'll have to skip this chapter then. I didn't take out very much for this site because I really want to preserve the story. Maybe I'm skating on thin ice... maybe not. But I hope not. Once again, the full version is at Geekfiction. Thanks for reading everyone. I REALLY appreciate your reviews. :)

**Chapter Five: Cloud Nine**

To say that Sara felt sick would be a gross understatement. She felt like someone had drained her of everything, physically and emotionally, but left her with her bittersweet memories. They were the only thing keeping her sane and she was beginning to wonder if that were even true.

Then again, perhaps they were slowly driving her mad.

She stretched her hand back out and found that it was no longer raining. It looked dark, but _less_ dark so the sun was most likely coming up. Which meant it would get hot. No… it would get sweltering. And that was a very dreary thought.

She naturally wondered about time and how long she had been here. Time was of course relative and what seemed like days to her was more than likely only hours. After all, she was still alive. And she had enough sense about her to realize that she wouldn't be alive out here for much longer. In fact, she was quite resigned to the idea that she was going to die.

Pessimism was so much easier on the heart than optimism… sometimes.

She felt sorry for herself and she felt sorry for Grissom. After all, if she did die… he would be alone again. She would be dead. It would make no difference to her one way or the other. But he would live and he would have to mourn her. And perhaps, she really couldn't say, he would move on one day. But she didn't know.

_No! Happy thoughts, Sidle. Don't do this to yourself_, she thought.

She searched her brain for the happiest memory she could think of and the first thing that came to mind, was the memory of Grissom kissing her for the first time. It had been her happiest moment in a long time.

Life had been pretty bleak up until that night. That night was like a ray of light shining in a room that had been left dark for a long time.

Things got better after that kiss…

--------------------

"_Oh, it's taking so long  
I could be wrong, I could be ready  
Oh, but if I take my heart's advice  
I should assume it's still unsteady  
Oh, I'm never really ready."_

"_In Repair" (John Mayer)_

--------------------

A soft knock came from the front door of Sara's little apartment and her stomach quivered a bit. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and opened the door, knowing full well who it would be.

He held a bottle of wine and a single red rose in either hand. A small grin spread across his face and she couldn't tell if he was nervous or not.

"Can I help you?" Sara asked playfully, her eyes shooting between the wine and flower.

Grissom nodded seriously. "Could that be bean curd you're cooking in there? Smells delicious."

She smirked and moved aside so that he could come in. "Ha, Ha. I prefer the term _tofu_. And you said you would keep an open mind."

He entered and set the wine on the counter. He turned to her and her heart skipped a beat. He _was_ nervous when he handed her the rose and said softly, "For you."

Sara smiled shyly. "Thank you, Grissom."

"You're welcome."

She wondered if he knew what I single red rose meant. Then she wondered how much it would make him freak if she casually mentioned that it means _I love you_. And _that_ made her wonder if he would say that he knew that.

But this was only their second date. No need for such thoughts… yet. So she retrieved a small, lonely vase from the cabinet under her sink and filled it with water. She could feel him watching her so she looked up and smiled at him. He leaned on the counter and cleared his throat.

"You can have a seat if you want. It should be ready in about ten minutes," she told him and he nodded but didn't move.

Yeah. He was _definitely_ nervous. This was kind of odd, considering he wasn't all that nervous at the play. But then again, they had been in a situation where there wasn't much talking involved.

Finally, he pushed himself from the counter and began walking around the living room, looking at her bookshelf.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and calm. "I was really disappointed we didn't get to see the ending of the play."

"Or the middle for that matter," she said with a laugh.

He nodded in agreement and gave a sigh.

Both of their phones had vibrated at the same time. They had peeled their eyes from the play and looked at each other despondently, flipping their phones open to reveal a text message. And they knew their night was over. He had taken her home so she could change and grab her own car. She wanted to kiss him, but the mood had been broken so she just thanked him for inviting her and told him she would see him shortly.

He had looked very disappointed.

"I'm sorry that happened, Sara. I was really hoping we would have a good time," he said as he turned to look at her sincerely.

Sara looked up from cutting the carrots and shook her head. "I did have a good time." He stared at her disbelievingly, but smiled and she laughed. "I did! You know… until we had to go dig a prostitute out of a dumpster."

He walked back over towards her, with a smile and a quiet chuckle. He leaned on the counter again, watching her. "Well, yeah. Until then."

She laughed and wondered briefly if talking so carelessly about the dead was acceptable, but discarded the thought. In their line of work, you couldn't take things seriously _all_ of the time and really, it had pissed her off.

After throwing the carrots in the frying pan, she opened the refrigerator and shuffled through the collection of items on the bottom shelf, mumbling to herself about the teriyaki sauce she _knew_ was down there somewhere.

"Ah hah! Found—" She stopped abruptly when she felt a heavy hand on her waist. She turned around with a curious grin to find Grissom staring at her intently with a compelling look about him and she knew what he was intending to do.

She swallowed as he gently took the teriyaki sauce from her hand and set it on the counter. She instinctively licked her lips as he leaned down. Their lips came into contact briefly, not even a kiss really, before Grissom pulled back. His lips hovered over hers teasingly for a second, though it felt like much longer, before he leaned back in and kissed her deeply. His hands made their way to the sides of her face as his tongue parted her lips. Sara gave a quiet, feminine moan into his mouth as his fingers began running through her hair. She gripped his jacket near the pockets and kissed him back, hard and meaningful.

Her body was screaming for oxygen, so she pulled back and took a breath with her eyes still closed. She could feel him still close to her face and when her eyes fluttered open, she found his eyes still closed and his mouth still open. She pressed her lips together and couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

His eyes opened slowly and he cleared his throat. He swallowed and Sara's grin spread as she watched his Adam's apple move up and down.

She felt the need to say something, though she didn't know why or what. "Well—"

"I've wanted to do that since the day I met you," he said in a low tone. Her eyes widened at this admission. He looked… kind of vulnerable and maybe a little bit appalled that he had said that out loud.

But he had and this was certainly _not_ one of those times she would let a comment like that roll away. Unfortunately, this was also one of those times she had no idea what to say so she grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him gently towards her, connecting their lips again in a slow, tender kiss.

She pulled back and whispered close to his lips, "I think dinner's almost ready."

--------------------

Sara half laughed, half groaned. That was a good memory. It seemed so long ago. They'd grown so much more comfortable with each other since then.

Which was good, but she missed the days when it was new. She couldn't remember a time when she felt happier than when she and Grissom were together. After that kiss, they were together any moment they could be. Gradually, Grissom began opening up to her a little bit more, showing her a different side of him.

He made her undeniably happy still. Sometimes he did things that upset her, but he always seemed to do or say _something_ that made her happy again. He had gotten a lot better at that… doing something. Or saying something.

Like when he had left for Massachusetts with that rather awkward goodbye in the locker room. But that had been his fault. He should have told her sooner that he was going on a sabbatical. Sara groaned. That was definitely _not_ a good memory.

But he had returned a month later and she was happy again. Now _that_ was a good memory. It didn't have the happiest of beginnings, but the ending certainly was good enough to make up for it.

To her surprise, things had gotten better. Not in spite of his leaving, but because of it.

--------------------

"_My heart is yours  
It's you that I hold on to,  
That's what I do  
And I know I was wrong  
But I won't let you down,  
Oh yeah, I will, yeah I will, yes I will"_

"_Sparks" (Coldplay)_

--------------------

"I was wondering when I was going to run into you."

Sara smiled behind the door of her locker at the sound of Grissom's voice. She swallowed the smile down and slowly closed the door. Grissom leaned against the doorframe, grinning at her. He looked exhausted, but in a general way, like he just needed some sleep. Truth be told, his time away _had_ done him well… by the looks of him.

"I'm surprised you did. Things are a mess right now," she said evenly. "I was just coming to find you, actually."

"Oh?" His eyebrows rose suggestively, but subtly as he walked towards her, his hands in his pockets. That same goofy, persuasive look he had used in the hallway, planted on his face.

She wanted to step back, but held her ground. "Yeah. To talk about Keppler. How's Catherine?" She swallowed nervously under his intense gaze and glanced at the door of the locker room to make sure they didn't have an audience. He seemed to notice this and his mouth twitched upwards.

"She's shaken up, but I think she's okay."

"So what's going to happen? I mean, I don't know the whole story, but—"

She stopped short when he stepped forward into her personal space and her eyes shot to the door again. _Why the hell isn't he worried about someone walking in… or even past the room?_ She thought as she took a small step back from him. His eyebrow shot up and he looked behind him.

"Come here," he said, taking her arm and leading her behind the lockers near the shower stalls. It was the first time he had touched her in a month and the simple gesture sent shivers down her spine. "Now," he began in a hushed tone, "I don't really know what's going to happen, but we are obviously hands off of Keppler's case." Sara nodded and he took a pause. He lowered his voice even more before adding. "But can we talk about something else?"

Sara glanced around the room, perhaps for dramatic effect. "Uh…"

"Like, you coming home with me. Right now."

"Griss… I, uh…. I can't," she exhaled and watched painfully as his face contorted in a confused expression. "I don't… I don't have any of my things at your place."

There. That was a good enough reason.

_No, that was a horrible excuse and I am terribly translucent._

_Good! He deserves it._

_No, I don't want to hurt him. _

She couldn't remember the last time she felt this confused about her emotions. On one hand, she wanted to go home with him right now and share body heat for as long as possible. But she also didn't want to make this easy for him. Why should she? He had hurt her and he should know it. There was no way she could just… pick up where they left off. She had her pride.

She was desperately lovesick. But she had her pride.

"Oh," came his reply in a heartbreakingly diminishing tone. "I see." And then he smiled. A horribly, pitiful, _heart wrenching _smile.

She did _not_ want to hurt him. For all she knew, he had every intention of making it up to her. Explaining himself.

Maybe.

Feeling guilty, she quickly tried to extend her pathetic excuse, "You know, practically all of my clothes somehow found their way to your place," she laughed nervously, "So I just took everything home. My clothes, I mean. And my George Foreman grill, but that's not really—"

"No, it's okay. I didn't think you would…" he shook his head and laughed, low and sad. "Never mind."

He had expected that she would stay in his townhouse while he was gone. It just occurred to her. Another pang of guilt. It was so unfair that _she_ was the one feeling culpable. After all… he had brought this upon them. But none of that seemed to matter when he looked and sounded so vulnerable. It wasn't a side of him she experienced very often.

He was in a sort of trance, probably analyzing the situation—searching for the right words, with his eyes glued to the floor. She sighed and stuck her arm out to lightly grab his arm.

"Hey," she said softly, _mercifully_, and his eyes immediately met hers. He smiled. "Why don't you come home with me instead?"

Before he could respond, his cell phone gave a shrill cry from his pocket. He frowned and reached his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the device. With a look at the screen, he rolled his eyes and grunted.

"Grissom," he said tersely into the phone. After a pause, his eyebrows joined together and he responded to the person, "No, I'm still at the lab." Pause. "They don't need to do that. They've been working around the clock." Pause. Sara yawned and Grissom looked at her with a concerned expression. "I realize that, but they need time to rest. I'll come and talk to them." Pause. "Yeah, see you in ten."

He snapped the phone shut and let out a breath. "That was Ecklie."

"I figured."

"He's on his way in. I have to—"

"I know. I understand." She shook her head from side to side. "No big deal," she reassured him as casually as possible.

She was surprised she felt relieved.

Then felt bad about that.

_Fuck!_

"I shouldn't be too long," he said with a frown.

"It's fine, Grissom."

"Okay, well…" he touched her shoulder and gave a crooked, apologetic smile. "You go on home and get some rest. I know you're tired." Sara nodded, hoping there would be no room for interpretation. She was tired. Very. Tired.

After all, if he didn't come over at all, temptation would be removed and she wouldn't feel so pathetic for caving in. She tried desperately not to notice the tingling that followed his hand as his fingers trailed down her arm and into to her hand. His hand lingered momentarily in hers lovingly. So lovingly, how he looked at her and she could tell he was fighting some sort of battle in his head. After a moment, he swallowed noticeably and leaned down, planting a tender kiss on her lips. He pulled back but kept his eyes closed.

"You're itching to get us caught, aren't you?" Sara whispered with a smile, still in a shameless stupor over that one small kiss.

She loved and hated how he could do that to her.

But in her defense… it had been a month.

And Grissom _never_ acted this way at work.

But in his defense… it had been a month.

And she was silently ecstatic that a month apart had affected him this way. But she still hated the fact that his inability to conceal his obvious desire for her was aiding in her easy forgiveness of his behavior.

It was so unfair.

Grissom smiled, but ignored the question. "I'll be over as soon as I can," he said in a subdued, husky tone against her lips. Without warning, he pulled back and walked away from her, out of the locker room. She sighed and in spite of herself, chuckled. Shaking her head at her weakness for him, she gathered her things and left the building.

A few hours later, Sara was curled on her side and tucked warmly between her sheets drifting in and out of that strange place between deep sleep and slight awareness. She was _slightly _aware of Grissom's presence in the room and _slightly_ aware when the shower turned on. She was even more aware when she heard Grissom rummaging through the third drawer of her dresser and withdrawing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

She smiled in her slight sleep at the fact that he was being so quiet as not to wake her.

Then smiled because that drawer was being opened for the first time in a long, grueling month. She had avoided that drawer completely, after all.

Her mind became fully aware when the other side of the mattress dipped and her body became fully aware when his, warm and familiar, molded to hers. His hand gently rested on her stomach and she could feel his breath on her neck. She shivered involuntarily, but remained still otherwise.

_Good_, she thought, _If he falls asleep… and I fall asleep… temptation will be removed, if only slightly, and I wouldn't have conceded without at least… talking about this first._

She closed her eyes and swallowed. He was pressing into her. And he smelled so appealing that it was impossible to ignore her arousal any longer.

_Oh, fuck it!_

But it wasn't until his breathing became steady and deep that she whispered into the darkened room, "Are you asleep?"

Instantaneously, his body tensed and he answered in a very alert voice, "No."

She smirked for a moment, and then turned around in his arms to meet his gaze with her own unreadable one.

"Hi," he breathed out, gingerly pushing the hair away from her face.

She didn't reply, only smiled crookedly and ran her hand over his new beard. "What's going on—" she tugged lightly at the small hairs for emphasis, "here?"

He merely shrugged and grinned back at her. His eyes closed and he leaned closer to kiss her. His lips brushed against hers tentatively at first, then his hand found the back of her head and he pulled her into him more fully. After a moment of soft, affectionate kisses, he pulled back and sighed against her lips. "God, I've missed you, Sara."

His tone, his uncharacteristically vulnerable tone, stirred something inside of her and she knew that no matter what he had done or hadn't said, he had missed her. _Really_ missed her and that's all she cared about at the moment.

She closed the remaining millimeters between them by crashing her lips to his. Her tongue parted his lips hastily. The softness was gone; the affection was still there. Just a bit more erotic.

She pushed on him, willing him to turn over onto his back. He did and she rolled on top of him, massaging him with her own body. He grunted into her heated kisses as she reached under her and pulled down his boxers.

Quickly. It was all happening so _quickly_.

She didn't bother removing his t-shirt, but he bunched hers up as far as he could so she pulled it off of herself and threw it on the bed. She wiggled out of her panties and positioned herself over him.

"Oh, Sara," Grissom sighed as his hands gripped at her thighs, her hips, then her thighs again.

She watched with absolute contentment as his eyes slammed shut and he inhaled and exhaled deeply. She rocked in a painfully slow motion, savoring every sound that escaped him, every facial expression he made.

"Missed you, too," Sara said breathlessly and leaned over to kiss him as the beautifully familiar feeling of warmth and ecstasy washed over her body and mind.

She leaned into his ear and whispered, "Let go" and planted a wet kiss on his ear for good measure. She pulled back to watch him as he lost control.

She relished these erotic moments when Grissom completely lost control of himself. When he became completely lost in himself. And her.

These moments were hers and hers alone.

Finally, Grissom let out a sated sigh and his sweaty hand worked its way up Sara's back. He pulled her down to his lips and kissed her thoroughly and tenderly.

She slowly pulled back from him and slid from his body, now very aware that the sex was over.

Now came the hard part: fixing things. And she hated that she didn't have much faith in him to do that.

She felt like going into the bathroom and… washing up. Stalling, actually, but anyway, she decided against it.

Instead, she waited until Grissom had removed his shirt and pulled his boxers back up that had been around his knees. To occupy herself as she thought of what to say and how to say it, she dug her own undergarments our from under the sheets and slid them back on, along with the small Peace Frogs sleep shirt she had taken off.

He lay back down and pulled her to him with a smile. Despite the fact that exertion had been minimal, his chest was sweaty and she found a strange sort of comfort in the feeling of his sweat under her palm.

"We need to talk," she finally said reluctantly.

He didn't tense or flinch. He didn't sigh forlornly. He didn't stop running his fingers lovingly through her hair. He didn't do _any_ of the things she somehow expected him to do.

He simply replied, "Yes, I know."

The night had been full of heavy, wordless moments. And strangely enough this was one of them. Silence ensued and Sara began feeling sad again remembering how she had felt in his absence.

There were things she needed to say and she would say them. But there were things she needed to hear, too, and she was so worried _he_ wouldn't say any of them.

At least he knew things needed to be said, and that was a step in the right direction.

"You alienated me," she finally said, the statement lacking the bitterness and dejection in might intrinsically require. She felt his chest rise as he sucked in a sharp breath. He obviously hadn't expected such a blunt acknowledgement, but she was determined so she steeled herself and continued, "I thought you were through will all of that. But I was wrong, I guess."

She intentionally said it as if it were simply an afterthought, but immediately wondered if it were such a good idea to be so nonchalant about her own feelings. It wasn't going to get her where she wanted, after all. It was merely a defense mechanism.

"Sara, I never intended to alienate you," he replied, his voice sadly quiet. "I really didn't."

"Then you shouldn't have left the way you did," she said. Her voice took on melancholy she could no longer control and she thought that now might be a good time to stop the detachment game.

Grissom shifted out from under Sara and lay on his side, facing her. His eyebrows knit together in a pained expression. She couldn't look at him for some reason so she directed her gaze to his right hand that rested between them on the terracotta-colored sheets. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was calm and soft. "There are a lot of things I should have said and done. For that matter, a lot of things I shouldn't have done." He took a pause and Sara victoriously fought back the first wave of tears, but she still kept her eyes glued to his hand. "And I'm sorry."

Sara finally was able to look at him. He was watching her intently with his face still set in a saddened expression. Sara inhaled a deep breath and sighed. "Then why did you do it?" she grimaced. "I think I deserved to know you were leaving a lot sooner than a few days beforehand. And I think I deserved to know _why_." Her voice was rising slightly, to her dismay.

"I know, I know," he whispered.

"It just… I would have been the decent thing to do. So that I _knew_," she looked away and wiped at the tear that had fallen down her cheek. "So that I didn't have to wonder."

"What did you wonder about?"

She scoffed and narrowed her eyes on him. Regrettably her mood was gravitating towards anger. "What do you _think_ I wondered about?"

Grissom winced and waited a moment, then replied, still in his steady calm voice, "Sara, I should have told you sooner that I was leaving. I know. But if you think I left because of you, then you were wrong." He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Very wrong."

"Grissom, I know that work had been rough for you. I know you needed a break from it. But only because I saw it myself, not because you talked to me about it. And then one day you come home and tell me you're leaving because you need some 'time away' but that's it. That's all you really say and, I don't know…" she looked away, realizing that she didn't really know what she wanted to say.

"Sara…" he began to speak, but she finished her own thought.

"The fact that you didn't tell me it had _nothing_ to do with us, with _me_," she said quietly. "The fact that you did nothing to reassure me…that makes me wonder, Grissom."

Another heavy pause ensued where neither of them looked at one another. Sara felt uncomfortable and rather ill all of a sudden and wanted nothing more than to leave the room. She wasn't angry, but she was still worried he wouldn't say what she needed to hear.

It wasn't that she needed to hear him say he loved her. She knew that he did.

She doubted, now that what she needed to say had been said, that _she_ even knew what she wanted him to tell her.

Grissom sighed and moved to lean against the headboard. He laid his head back on it and she heard the thump of his skull against the wood. She looked up at him to see his face. He looked distressed as he turned her words over in his head. Sara did as he did. She scooted up towards the headboard and sat up straight, letting her head fall back against the wood. They stared ahead blankly into the dim room.

Finally, Grissom spoke, still staring straight forward, "It's hard for me to, um," he paused and muttered something under his breath.

Sara turned her head to him. "Hmm?"

Grissom sighed again and continued, "Before we got together, the only life I had was work. I didn't have a social life to speak of. I didn't have a family life. Just… work. And then suddenly I have two lives. I have life at work and then I come home and have life with you. I thought that I could separate them, but I can't. It's impossible," he paused and Sara thought that she saw a smile grace his lips. "The happiness I experience in my life with you has undeniably spilled over into my life at work."

Sara smiled and reached down to grab his hand. He looked at her and his mouth twitched into a small smile as he brought their hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

Still looking at her, he continued, "I was miserable at work and I don't think, even now, I really know why. I couldn't bear the thought of that misery overflowing into my life with you." He paused and looked away, then back at her again. "That's why I left."

Sara gave a nod and a reassuring smile to tell him that she understood what he was saying. "Why couldn't you just tell me that Grissom? You didn't think I would understand that?" she asked gently.

He gave a short shake of his head, the replied contemplatively, "I think it's always been hard for me to communicate my feelings to you because I've never really understood them fully _myself_." He let go of her hand and reached out to her forehead, sweeping the hair away tenderly. "But my understanding is a lot better now. And that month away from you was awful."

"It was."

Grissom nodded. "Mhmm. And I don't want to even spend a _night_ away from you. Ever again."

"Then don't," Sara whispered with the biggest, most genuine smile she had had in weeks.

Grissom leaned over and kissed her lovingly. He pulled back and looked at her. It was the look he often gave her that told her, without a doubt, that he loved her. His eyes were heavy with an indescribable shine to them. He could look right through her with them.

"I won't."

--------------------

Something had shifted in their relationship when Grissom returned from his sabbatical. They were closer. Close in a way they hadn't been before. Happier than they had been.

Sara was thankful for their time apart because just as he had told her, it had indeed brought him a better understanding of his feelings for her. He was more open and attentive. More affectionate and thoughtful. Like he finally comprehended, really and truly, what it meant to be in a relationship.

And just as he had said he wouldn't, he hadn't slept a wink without her beside him since then.

Now, in her current situation, that thought made her sad.

What if she did die out here? Would he sleep? Would he eat? Would he take care of himself?

She didn't really know how he would deal. She only knew that, if the tables had been turned and it was _he_ who died in the alone in the desert, she would be consumed with grief.

She wouldn't… _couldn't_, sleep without Grissom.

_She_ would never be happy again.

Perhaps sometimes pessimism _was _so much easier on the heart than optimism. But this certainly was not one of those times anymore.

_To be continued…_


	6. When a Dog Runs at You

**A/N: **This chapter is isn't adult at all. Just letting you know.Thanks for reading and I can't wait to see what you guys have to say.

**Chapter Six: When a Dog Runs at You…**

"Why didn't you let me know that you were sending the helicopters up?" Grissom's anger echoed off the walls of Conrad Ecklie's office. "I can't believe this!"

"Gil, calm down. Look at yourself! You're edgy, you're exhausted… you look like you're about to snap."

"I'm snapping right now, Conrad!"

"Exactly why I wasn't about to put you in a helicopter," responded the Assistant Director.

Grissom turned this over and paced the short distance of the room with his fingers pressing against his forehead. His head was throbbing. He wished Catherine would get back with his meds.

With unmistakable hopelessness, Grissom spoke to no one in particular, his eyes set emptily on a spot behind Ecklie's head, "Now all I can do is wait."

He was very aware of how his behavior looked to his boss, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

After a silent moment, Grissom's eyes flicked up to meet Ecklie's. The man looked strangely regretful and speechless. He gave a quick shake of his head and looked up at Grissom. "Look, Gil…" He paused. "I think they'll find something up there. I have a lot of confidence in that, and we will know as _soon_ as they do."

Grissom nodded and muttered, "I'll be in my office."

_Completely helpless_, he thought as he retreated.

He entered his office and sat down at his desk. He pulled the mini crime scene—Sara's crime scene—in front of him.

Hodges was testing the sand, but Grissom knew, just _knew_, it would be fruitless.

Brass and Warrick were at Natalie's apartment going through her things, seeing what they could find. Grissom hadn't been invited.

Nick and Greg were still looking for possible tow truck services Natalie could have used. Nothing was coming up. Grissom's mind wouldn't focus enough to participate with them.

He had never felt so utterly helpless.

Despair seized him in a consuming wave when he looked, really looked, at the tiny Sara doll before him. Its right hand moved methodically in the tiny grains of sand. Clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to find something solid to cling to.

Life perhaps.

She wasn't dead, he knew this. He knew this because it was all he allowed himself to know. He just didn't feel it like he knew it.

A soft knock at his open door caught his weary attention and he looked up to see Catherine standing there with a pitiful look. A skinny orange bottle in one hand, a brown paper bag and bottle of water in the other.

"Your medicine," she said, holding up the bottle. "And something to eat." She held up the hand that carried the water and bag.

"Thank you." He took the medicine and bottle of water gratefully and popped the pills. "Though I'm not sure what good they'll do me, I'm so far gone."

He wasn't sure why he had said it, but felt an odd sense of relief at the admission that he felt so out of it. But he hadn't much to hide from the woman sitting on the edge of her seat in front of him

"You're welcome." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and he could sense her hesitance, but he had no reason to urge her on. "I know Jim and Warrick are at Natalie's apartment. I think I'm gonna head over there and see if I can be of some help… why don't you come?"

Grissom capped the water bottle and looked at her for a moment. He felt like a completely different man than he had been even twenty-four hours ago.

"Jim, ah," he cleared his throat uneasily, "Jim warned be against going over there. There are things…"

"Oh." Catherin's face fell with regret.

His voice rose with frustration as he looked away from her and down at his desk. "I would be there. I would be doing _something_ but everyone's treating me like a ticking time bomb and if I'm truly honest… Jim's right, Ecklie's right…I'm." He stopped himself and dropped his head heavily into his hands. "I'm unstable right now, Catherine."

Catherine used her best mother voice, "It's understandable, Gil."

He looked up at her quickly. "No, it isn't! Sara needs me to keep it together and I can't _think_ Catherine. I can't stop thinking about her out there, alone, getting crushed by a car, long enough to be of any use! I'm completely helpless."

Catherine looked as speechless as he had ever seen her. Tears began rising in his eyes, an altogether foreign feeling, and he looked away again. Such a display of raw emotion was completely exceptional from him. The vulnerability he was experiencing only added to his frustration. But it was truly as if a dam had been broken.

"Catherine," he began, his voice low and depleted of energy, "If anything happens to her, I… I don't know what I'll do…"

"Stop thinking that way, okay?" She paused and Grissom nodded ambiguously, tears still brimming in his eyes. He reluctantly put his fingers on his eyes to wipe them away roughly as if her were punishing them for daring to cry. Catherine asked in a strained, happy voice, "Hey! What's your dog's name?"

Grissom knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to steer his thoughts from the desert and Sara and heavy cars. He knew it had nothing to do with her curiosity. So, he bit. "Bruno." His voice was husky with emotion and he regretted having opened his mouth at all.

"Did you name him that?... or did Sara?"

He closed his eyes and thought he felt himself smile. "Neither."

------------------------------------------

_We all have a sickness  
That cleverly attaches and multiplies  
No matter how we try  
We all have someone that digs at us  
At least we dig each other_

"_Dig" (Incubus)_

------------------------------------------

Sara knelt beside Grissom who was perched beside the body of an attractive thirty-something blonde woman with three very unattractive bullet holes in her chest. Her creamy white skin was a stark contrast to the abnormally green grass. It was a grim sight, but nothing they weren't more than used to.

Unfortunately, the body had been found by an eleven year old girl—the daughter of the dead woman they were hovering over.

Sara gave a sad sort of sigh and spoke, the emotion deliberately avoided, "Brass says that the girl witnessed the shooting."

Grissom turned to look at her and she turned to look at him. For a moment he was silent, but the light in her eyes was dim and it disturbed him. He knew he couldn't say what he wanted to say, so he simply nodded dismally. "She won't say anything about the man who did it, though."

Sara looked back down at the body and rose to her feet. Grissom's eyes followed her. "Great," she whispered disdainfully.

He stood up with her and wrinkled his brow, hoping she would see his concern for her. So maybe she could confirm for him voluntarily that she had no intention of letting this case get to her. So he wouldn't have to ask.

"Are you going back with the body?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," she answered quickly. Too quickly.

"Nick's on his way to help you process the house."

She nodded and looked away, feigning indifference to the situation. He could tell. He knew her.

"Are you okay, Sara?"

She frowned at his question, but her tone was weightless. "Of course."

He expected that response, but he had a good handle on the signs that she was distraught over something. He frowned back at her and opened his mouth tentatively to speak, careful of his word choice. "I like to think that by now, I have a pretty good idea of when something is bothering you. I'd understand if this case bothers you."

She stared at him for a moment, then, to his surprise, smiled crookedly. "There's no point in pretending this isn't such a sad situation. I know it. You know it." She paused and added weakly, "and the girl knows it."

He turned this over and looked at her softly. "Precisely why I can find someone else… if you'd like."

"No. I wouldn't."

Grissom tightened his lips and nodded.

"It bothers me," she added, "but I can still do my job."

"Of course you can," he responded in a low, gentle voice. "I know that."

She smiled and narrowed her eyes, silently thanking him for his concern. "Good. Now I'm going to print that door over there." She picked up her kit and pointed to the wooden door of the privacy fence surrounding the back yard.

"Okay."

Grissom kneeled back down to the body and continued studying it while Sara walked the few feet to the door. His eyes were involuntarily drawn back to his significant other as she began dusting the inside latch of the door. He smiled and she looked back over at him, smiling as well.

After a moment, Sara's eyebrows furrowed and she cocked her head to the side. "Did you hear that?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head. He hadn't heard anything. Another moment passed and Grissom heard, quite clearly, the short bark of a dog.

"Did they have a dog?" she asked him.

Grissom looked around for a dog dish or any other sign that a dog lived there, but found nothing. "I don't know."

She took the tip of the latch gingerly between her gloved fingers and unlatched the door. Before she could open it, two rather large paws pushed open the heavy door and knocking Sara over. Grissom stood up, alarmed, as the dog bounded inside the yard. The police officer that had been standing near the back door caught the dog by the collar. Grissom walked briskly over to a laughing Sara and held out his hand for her to grab. She was still laughing as he pulled her to her feet.

He loved the sound of her laughter.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, unable to keep the small smile from forming on his lips.

"Nah," she said, wiping the dirt from her backside. "But that was quite a surprise."

He looked over to the dog and the police officer and called out in their direction. "Does he have any ID?"

"Yeah, he lives here!" the officer called back, pulling the metal identification tag around for them to see.

Grissom and Sara walked over to the dog and Sara began running her hand over his head.

"Careful," Grissom warned.

"Hey, boy! You're a big guy aren't you?" Sara cooed, scratching his under his chin roughly. The dog's heavy tail pounded against the wooden deck. She fingered the metal tag and read out loud. "Bruno." She looked up at Grissom, smiling. "Dog's name is Bruno."

Grissom looked the dog over and grunted. "Fitting, somehow."

---

"Lydia, do you think you could help us identify the man who hurt your mom?" Sara gently asked the girl sitting across the table of her and Grissom.

The girl looked away, tears drying on her cheeks, but didn't answer.

"I promise you, this man cannot hurt you. But we really need your help, Lydia," Sara continued.

Grissom looked over at Sara, hoping that the girl would find the courage to help them. Not only for the justice of her mother, but the cathartics of herself and Sara.

Lydia sniffled and wiped her cheeks. Finally, she looked up at Sara and spoke, "Did you find my dog, Bruno? He ran away, but he always comes back." Her voice was strangely solid and lacking in sadness.

Grissom was about to respond but decided to let Sara do all of the talking. He knew that later one, when Sara grumbled about being horrible with children, he could refer her to this particular instant.

Sara nodded and smiled. "We sure did. He did come back."

Lydia nodded as if she already knew the answer to her question. "Bruno is actually his dog, not mine. But he's mean to him."

Sara cocked her head to the side curiously. "Who?"

"_Him_." Lydia looked down at the table and pulled at her fingers nervously. "I can't tell you."

Sara sighed quietly and waited a moment, the said gently, "He can't hurt you, Lydia."

The believed murderer was already in custody. The evidence against him wasn't altogether overwhelming considering his fingerprints and DNA could be easily explained. It was her mother's boyfriend, so Grissom was sure that Lydia's reluctance to identify him came from a sense of protection. But it could very well be because he threatened her life. And if that were the case, convincing children, and sometimes adults, that identifying them would put them behind bars, was even tougher.

New tears began running down Lydia's face and Sara shot a sympathetic look to Grissom, then back at the child.

"He said he'd kill me and then he would kill Bruno if I told anyone," the girl murmured faintly.

"We have Bruno and we have you and once you identify him, we'll have him too, for good," Sara insisted and she leaned forward on the table.

"I don't want him to kill Bruno!" she cried, as if she hadn't even heard Sara.

"Once you look at these men and tell us if one of them is him, then he will be put away forever. He won't be able to hurt Bruno or anyone." She paused and looked back at Grissom then back at the girl. "Do you think you can do that, Lydia?"

A heavy moment passed in silence while Lydia stared at the table and Sara looked questioningly at the girl's advocate. The woman frowned at Sara then down at Lydia. Grissom watched as the girl steeled herself as if coming to a sudden realization. She looked up slowly and her eyebrows drew together in seriousness. "I can do it," she said.

They walked down the hallway slowly. Lydia stood closely beside Sara and Sara must have noticed because she smiled down at her, a knowing smile, and touched Lydia on the shoulder reassuringly.

Not good with children, thought Grissom, with a smile to himself.

He looked down just as the girl looked up at Sara and asked her quietly, "What's going to happen to me?" She began crying as if the realization that she was alone had just sunk in.

Sara's face fell and her eyes darted quickly to Grissom and Brass who were looking back with sympathetic eyes. They nodded knowingly as Sara touched the girl's shoulder again directed the girl to the side of the hallway. She stopped and kneeled down to her level. Grissom's heart ached as he listened to Sara console the girl.

"It's going to be okay eventually, Lydia," Sara began in a soft, reassuring voice.

"How do you know?"

Sara looked as if she was at a loss, but after a moment, she responded, "Just trust me. I've been in a similar situation."

The girl wiped at her face, her cries stopping. "You have?"

"Yeah, and it can be scary, I know. But you're never going to be alone."

"But what's going to happen to me?" Lydia pleaded.

Sara smiled crookedly and sighed. "We're going to try and find some family members you can live with. Do you know of any family members?"

Lydia nodded. "My aunt in uncle in California."

Sara continued smiling. "California, huh? Are they nice?"

Lydia nodded. "They're kinda old, though."

Sara chuckled. "How old?"

"Like…" she shrugged, "fifty."

Sara laughed again. "That's not too old. It'll all work out. You'll see." She paused and smiled. "And maybe they would even let you bring Bruno along."

Lydia smiled for a moment, looking past Sara, then her face fell and she spoke solemnly, "No, I don't want to bring Bruno."

"Why?"

"I don't think he'd be safe with me. He'd be safer with you."

Sara sighed and looked speechless. "Lydia—"

"You'll take care of him for me, won't you?" Lydia asked, as if she already knew the answer.

Grissom knew, just as Sara did, that a simple "yes" would ease the girls mind. But he also knew that it was difficult for Sara to lie, even when it was a simple white one. She would feel bad about it, he knew.

Still she smiled and nodded to Lydia. "Of course I will."

The little girl smiled, a broad, thankful smile, and suddenly threw herself around Sara's neck, catching her off guard. Sara's eyes widened in surprise, and then she hugged the girl back. Grissom smiled slightly then looked over at Jim. Jim smiled back at catching this rare and touching moment.

They returned and began walking down the hallway again. Sara looked over at Grissom and he smiled knowingly. She simply shrugged and sighed as if saying "what else could I say?" But he knew she was sad.

Grissom was overcome with a loving feeling for the woman walking beside him and he had never come to a conclusion quite so quickly in his life.

----

Sara leaned over and planted a kiss on Grissom's cheek before sinking into the couch and laying her head on his lap. She closed her eyes while he continued reading his book.

"Did you have fun?" he asked and began running his fingers through her dark hair.

"I guess." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You should have come."

He shrugged and lifted his hand from her hair to turn a page. "I wasn't feeling up to it, I suppose."

Truth was, he had lucked out. Catherine had invited Sara and the rest of the team to dinner. Sara had accepted the invitation but Grissom had other plans. It was the perfect time to retrieve Bruno from the animal shelter and surprise Sara with him when she got home. He was just hoping that the dog wouldn't bark and blow his cover before he got a chance to surprise her.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, closing her eyes again.

"Just relaxing," he said nonchalantly and turned another page.

"That was a pretty rough case. Easy solve, but still—" She stopped and looked up at him with troubled eyes.

He put the book down and took his glasses off. "I know." A moment passed as his fingers moved tenderly through her locks.

"I kind of lied to the girl about the dog, but I guess this is one of those instances where what she doesn't know won't hurt her." She paused and closed her eyes again. "Someone else will take care of him," she added as if she had already convinced herself of this.

Grissom smiled to himself and lifted her head to lift himself from the couch. Her eyes shot open in confusion as he walked across the living room, into the kitchen, and to the door of the large pantry where Bruno was currently being held captive.

"That's true," he said with his hand on the knob, "The girl won't know either way. Bruno, however—" He stopped and she grimaced. He turned the knob and opened the door. "Will," he finished and looked into the pantry. The dog was lying placidly on his side next to his new food and water bowl. He looked up at Grissom and yawned, his tail hammering the linoleum of the floor.

Grissom whistled for him and the dog immediately got to his feet and started at him happily. Grissom looked up at Sara's confused expression and laughed. The dog exited the pantry completely and followed Grissom back towards the living room where Sara was still sitting and staring dumbly at them.

She smiled a little, then a lot. She was beaming when she looked up at Grissom, confounded, and said, "You didn't!"

"I did," he nodded, patting the dogs head.

Sara lifted herself from the couch and walked over to where Grissom stood. Bruno sat loyally at his side as if he had known him since he was a puppy. She threw her arms around the boxer's humongous neck and kissed him.

"Grissom—" she started, then looked up at him speechless.

It was completely worth it, just to see the look on her face in that moment. Her eyes were big and slightly watery, not unlike Bruno's. She was smiling at him—that adorable, gap-toothed smile that he lived for. The smile that, when directed at him, gave him immense hope, like perhaps he wasn't so bad at this relationship thing after all.

"I don't know what to say," she said quietly and rose to Grissom's level. She kissed him lightly on the mouth and hugged him lovingly. "Thank you."

He hugged her back and kissed her on the temple. "You're very welcome," he said softly into her hair and pulled back. "Now you can keep your promise to Lydia."

She sighed happily and nodded. She bent back down to scratch under the dog's chin. She cooed "good boy" over and over again as the dog lifted his chin blissfully.

"Unless, of course, I'm going to have to compete for your affection," Grissom teased with a smile.

She looked up at him, stopping her ministrations on Bruno's fur. Bruno began lapping wetly at Sara's fingers and Sara laughed a beautiful, freeing laugh that mirrored her gap-toothed smile. She stood up and looked at her hand with feigned disgust.

Then, with another laugh, she said, "Don't worry, you're still the better kisser."

Grissom couldn't help but chuckle at this and he bent down to capture her lips in a sweet, tender kiss. After a moment, his tongue met her lips and he gave them a short, teasing lick. She laughed against his mouth and deepened the kiss.

They kissed to the sound of Bruno's tail thumping on the hardwood floors.

------------------------------------------

"Grissom! Hey!" Catherine's voice reverberated in Grissom's ears, pulling him harshly from his beautiful memory. "Are you okay?"

He didn't pull his eyes from his desk. "He was a… gift to her. She fell in love with him." He paused and let out a sad little laugh. "He follows me everywhere, though."

He couldn't look up at Catherine, but he heard her push herself from her chair. She rounded his desk and crouched down beside him. Her hand landed on his and she squeezed gently.

He realized that he must have been cold because her hand was abnormally warm against his skin. He put his head in his free hand and leaned over on his desk, sighing miserably. "I'm not used to people treating me this way. I'm not really—" He stopped and swallowed his words, whatever they were going to be.

A moment of companionable silence followed. It was broken by the sound of Conrad Ecklie's voice.

"Gil! Catherine! The helicopters spotted an upturned car—"

"Oh thank God!" Grissom blurted out. His head snapped up so fast that, if he had cared to notice, he would have realized it hurt.

But he didn't care about anything else except what Conrad had to say.

"There's already a crane on the way to lift the car…" Ecklie continued as Grissom rushed over to him.

"Where? How—How far?"

Ecklie handed him a piece of paper. "And medevac is on the way as well…" Grissom grabbed the paper and pushed past him and into the hall. "Gil!"

"Gil, wait!" Catherine yelled out, rushing out towards him with Ecklie.

Ecklie began in an uncharacteristic tentative voice, "Maybe you should meet them at the hospital. You aren't going to be able to do anything there—"

Grissom stared at him ridiculously. Maybe he doesn't get it after all, Grissom thought. "I can _be_ there, Conrad," he responded with a shake of his head and a turn of his heel.

Catherine rushed up beside him "Wait! Gil. Don't—"

"Stop trying to stop me, Catherine! You of all people should—"

She grabbed the keys from his hand. "Let me drive, okay?"

_To be continued…_


	7. Connect Two

**Chapter Seven: Connect Two**

They drove faster than he would have been comfortable with under normal conditions.

But these were far from normal conditions and he couldn't get there fast enough. Somewhere behind them was vehicle with Nick and Greg. Maybe Ecklie, probably not. Didn't matter, anyway. The medevac was on its way, hopefully there already. The crane, too.

Grissom didn't know what to expect.

She would be out of there soon enough and they would take a vacation. Somewhere green, somewhere far from the orange and red, dusty desert.

Together. They would go together and if she insisted on going alone, he would push and push and push.

She shouldn't be alone. She was alone right now, so alone. And though he would never admit it to her and he could barely admit it to himself, he couldn't stop the thinking about what life without her would be like.

He'd be alone again.

_Again._ But worse.

God, How _alone_ he had been. And how that dull lonesomeness had dissipated because of one person.

Sara.

He was glad he had told her that.

- - -

"_The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could  
The First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything  
The weight of water, the way you taught me to look past everything I had ever learned  
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love"_

"_Make This Go On Forever" (Snow Patrol)_

- - -

Grissom turned his head to the brunette sitting in the passenger's seat beside him in the SUV. She was gulping water from a 20 oz. bottle of Deer Park. The sweat glimmered on her reddened skin. Her face, her neck, her forehead. He watched as she drank the water, licking his lips involuntarily, as her throat moved up and down. His thoughts turned rather lewd for a moment and he shook his head, turning the key in the ignition and driving off.

He chuckled when she had yet to set the water aside. "Come up for air, Sara."

He glanced back over at her as she finished the bottle and sat back in the seat dramatically, sighing relief. The air conditioner was full blast, blowing the short strands of hair around her face. The loose ponytail gave him an absolute view of her elegant neck, still glistening with sweat.

He shook his head again and focused on the road. He was surprised by how quickly his thoughts seemed to turn sexual in nature. Quite a lot of time had passed since he had been intimate with a woman, true, but he was usually unnaturally skilled at avoiding sexual thoughts. Mostly because they did nothing but frustrate him further.

But he and Sara had been… dating… for almost three weeks. Spending a lot of time together. Kissing, hugging, touching, laughing, smiling. He had to admit that it was getting more and more difficult to focus around her.

_As if that would be fixed with sex_, he thought.

He knew it was more than physical with Sara. He was serious about wanting to be in a relationship with her.

But he _wanted_ her. That was just that.

He heard her sigh and he glanced over at her. She looked at him and smiled. "You never look hot. Why is that? I'm burning up. You don't even look like you've broken a sweat."

"I'm special."

She gave a short laugh. "Yes, you are," she said casually. They were silent for a moment and Sara added, "And you certainly made Greg feel special today."

"What do you mean?"

She chuckled. "That attaboy you sent his way earlier at the scene." She looked over at him with a slightly amused, slightly earnest look. "You know how he lives for those moments. Compliments from _you_ are like gold."

"Well I wish he would get over that."

Sara was silent for a moment, then said in a thoughtful tone. "He really has changed, hasn't he? He's not the same Greg he was even a _year_ ago."

Grissom grunted and nodded in agreement.

"I mean, he used to be so…" she trailed off for a moment, then added, "Carefree, maybe? Now he's… serious."

"He's maturing," Grissom responded in a light tone, though he understood what Sara was saying.

"Yeah, but does that necessarily mean he has to become humdrum and… gloomy?" She paused. "Like us."

Grissom gripped the steering wheel while he thought over what Sara said. He didn't think he was all that gloomy. Not really anymore. Maybe a little bit humdrum sometimes, but not always. He certainly didn't consider her either of these things. Not really anymore.

Sara reached her hand over towards the gear shift where Grissom's hand rested. She laid her hand on top of his and he turned his hand palm-up, lacing their fingers together.

"That came out different than I meant it to," she said lightly. "I simply meant that we've changed, all of us, and sometimes I wonder if it's for the best."

Grissom just nodded, his eyes still fixed on the straight road ahead.

"I know I've changed," she continued, "And you can't say you haven't changed either."

He thought about this for a moment. Of course he had changed. He had certainly changed since the first time he and Sara had met.

_Is that what she means?_ he thought as he looked over to her. She was looking at him curiously, her lips a straight line forming a strange smile.

"How have I changed?" Grissom asked, turning to her briefly.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but no words came, as if she hadn't really expected the question. Her eyes diverted, her head cocked to the side in thought.

"You've become more…" she paused tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Well… serious, I guess. Not unlike everyone else at this job."

"I've always been _serious_."

"True." She paused and Grissom thought maybe she would leave it at that and they could stop talking. He almost turned the radio on when she continued, "You aren't the same guy I met in San Francisco, that's all."

Grissom, once again, had no clue how to take this. Did she want that guy back? Was he _too_ serious now? He was certainly never carefree, not the way Greg had been.

Sara gave his hand a squeeze. "Not that you shouldn't have changed. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that these last few years you've seemed a little…"

He turned to her, eyebrows raised in question. But she didn't look at him.

"A little more…"

"A little more, what?" Grissom asked, urging her to continue. He chuckled at her hesitancy and she smiled sheepishly.

"More… unhappy than you used to… seem."

He grunted in response—unsure of what to say, really. He had been unhappy for quite a while. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to get into that and surely that was where the conversation was headed.

Sara continued talking after a brief silence, "I'm one to talk, right?" She gave a short, forced laugh. "I was miserable there for a while… but you know all about that…"

Grissom nodded, still trying to find an acceptable response. A heavy silence followed and Sara turned her body around to him as much as he could.

"I didn't… hurt your feelings or anything, did I?" she asked, her eyes squinting from the sun and her top row of teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"No, no, you didn't hurt my feelings," he said with a lighthearted chuckle to reassure her. "You're right actually. I had been rather… down… these past few years."

"Do you know why?" she asked quickly in a gentle, curious tone.

Grissom took a breath, then exhaled slowly. He was getting slightly uncomfortable with the personal direction this conversation had taken. He couldn't help it. It was who he was.

He opened his mouth to speak, but realized he didn't actually have a response.

He must have waiting too long, because Sara removed her hand from his and said, "Too personal right now. It's okay." It wasn't bitter or angry. It was calm and accepting. Maddeningly so.

It made him feel guilty.

"No, it isn't that. I just don't… I don't really…" he fumbled with words, unsure of how to put it, but not wanting Sara to think he was unwilling to _try_.

"It's okay Griss, really…"

"I was lonely!" he blurted out in frustration. Partly with himself, partly with her. It sounded strange falling from his lips, but it felt oddly liberating. He glanced over at Sara who was clearly a bit shocked at how plainly he had put it. It just wasn't like him. He added slowly and in a much softer tone, "I felt disconnected."

"Oh," she replied and smiled at him understandingly.

"Yeah," he breathed out more than spoke and shrugged.

A long silence followed, leaving Grissom feeling a little exposed. He had only uttered a mere six words, but they had meant a lot to him. He never thought he would have said it out loud something that bothered him even when he admitted it to himself.

He had never wanted his happiness to depend on another person, but here it was. It just was.

And he really wanted to know what the hell Sara was thinking but all she was doing was watching the buildings as they zoomed past the window, her face strangely impassive.

And he also wanted to know how the hell this conversation had turned towards him, how it had become so stressful and heavy. But he also knew this was all part of getting closer to Sara and he didn't regret revealing himself, however hard it had been.

The sound of Sara softly clearing her throat bounced off of the interior of the vehicle. She turned to him and he glanced at her, noticing hesitancy around her eyes and mouth.

"What's wrong?" he asked, almost involuntarily.

"I…" she paused for a moment, closing then opening her mouth. "I don't want this to come out wrong, but…" she stopped. Her hesitancy was beginning to amuse and annoy him. Her eyes darted to the side and she licked her lips.

Grissom parked the car in a secluded corner of the Las Vegas Crime Lab parking deck and turned to her, ducking his head in silent encouragement.

"Not that I haven't really enjoyed seeing this side of you," she continued, "but if these past few weeks have been about you… being lonely…" she trailed off and grimaced.

Grissom wrinkled his brow and took a slow breath, trying desperately to understand what she was trying, very ineloquently, to say. He gave a laborious swallow. The inside of his mouth suddenly felt like it was coated in the very same red dust that the vehicle was covered with. He looked down, rubbed his hands together slowly, then looked back up at her.

"I just…" she continued, "I think this is probably a good time to make sure we're on the same page here."

Grissom's eyes widened of their own accord, his eyebrows shot up, and he had a sudden revelation. There weren't many times he could say that he without a doubt understood Sara Sidle, or any woman for that matter, but this was one of those rare times when he just _got_ it.

She wanted to make sure that it was deeper than that. She wanted to make sure he had _intentions_ that didn't just involve having someone to keep him warm at night.

And it was. So much deeper. And well, he had no qualms about reassuring her of that.

"Sara—" he started, but she interrupted him nervously as if she hadn't even heard him.

She wasn't looking at him, but instead the dashboard. "We haven't really talked about" she waved a hand between them suggestively "_this_, you know? And I guess what I want… what I _need_ to know is—"

"Sara!" he said loudly with a good-natured chuckle.

Her head turned quickly to look at him.

"You're over talking," he said with a warm smile.

She gave him a sheepish grin. "Yes, I am." She sucked in a long breath and let it out almost unnoticeably. She added slowly and softly, "Just tell me you're serious about this. That it isn't just…" she trailed off and shrugged, unwilling to finish her own sentence.

He gave her a comforting smile and unbuckled his seat belt. Instinctively, he glanced around to make sure no one was around them. When he saw they were alone, he reached a hand out and tucked a rogue wisp of hair behind her ear.

"I've spent time with other women, Sara," he said in a subtle, intimate tone. "I still felt lonely."

Her face relaxed as his words sunk in and she smiled a gratifying and charming smile that made his insides melt and his fingertips, which were still slightly touching her ear, tingle.

She dipped her head and looked almost bashful as she pursed her lips. After a moment of quietness, she asked him faintly, "And how do you feel now?"

He took a sizeable breath and waited for the strong wave of desire to pass over him. He was completely consumed by the moment. The stillness of the air inside the car was a startling contrast to the beautiful, oxygen-less turmoil in his mind and body.

Suddenly his hand felt too heavy to hold up and he dropped it onto Sara's thigh. Her eyes glanced down at his hand briefly then back up at to meet his eyes. Her eyebrows rose in question.

Grissom cleared his throat, feeling the huskiness there, and said, "I feel…" his hand slid down to cup her knee and he leaned in to place a short, delicate kiss on her lips. He pulled back, still mere centimeters from her face and finished saying, "I feel connected, Sara."

A pleased grin spread across her face and the lock of hair fell from behind her ear. He grinned back and tucked the tendril back in its place, his thumb grazing her nose lovingly.

She leaned in to kiss him and said, almost inaudibly, before her lips touched his, "That makes two of us."

- - -

Grissom chewed the inside of his mouth nervously as a helicopter came into view. They had been driving, seemingly aimlessly through the lifeless dust of the desert. The dirt floor was still slightly damp from the rain it had gratefully received only hours before, but the landscape still looked desperate and discouraging.

The blue and red lights from the squad car in front of him and the blaring of the siren were a painful reminder of the urgency of the situation.

Grissom squeezed his eyes shut and prayed, the most sincere prayer he had every uttered in his entire life.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

**A/N:** I just want to thank everyone for sticking with the story. I know reading a work in progress is a risky undertaking for your sanity. I promise I won't ever leave you handing for more than a week or so. Besides, the story, as you might imagine, is almost over. The next chapter is already written. I just have to type it. It should be up in the next three days or so. 


	8. Warmth

**This is once again ADULT. No likey that kinda nonsense? Please just skip :)**** I deleted like four paragraphs (and a few choice terms) because I thought they were too risqué for this website and I really don't want this story deleted, so once again, head on over to Geekfiction if you want to read the non-amended version. Follow my HOMEPAGE link on my profile to easily find it. Thanks for reading and… enjoy. Can't wait to hear from you!!!**

**Chapter Eight: Warmth**

Sara Sidle was still very much alone when she began drifting in and out of consciousness. There were no helicopters or red lights or blue lights or white lights for that matter, only her dull and vague awareness that she was somehow still a part of planet Earth, but apart from everything that mattered there.

She thought that she was dying.

She felt like a thin piece of wire that was being twisted back and forth, back and forth, friction desperately trying to snap her in half. The twisting was her doing, created by the want to live and the want to die and the want to _not _do either one, really.

Mortal pain kept her from wanting to live, emotional pain kept her from wanting to die.

Incessant twisting that didn't create heat, but instead choked sobs that began at the pit of her stomach and were forced to the tip of her tongue. Sobs with words that she couldn't understand. Sad, pathetic sobs that she always knew she was capable of. She wondered if she was dying with dignity or not.

She also wondered if she was falling asleep again.

She hoped she was because maybe she would wake up next to Grissom in his queen size bed, snug between deliciously smooth sheets, his warm chest pressed against her back and Bruno's solid and consistent weight at the foot of the bed. When she thought of security and protection, she thought of these things and how they offered her nothing but just that… safety.

_I'll never wake up beside Grissom and Bruno again_, she thought, and more sobs climbed her throat, a ruthless auditory reminder of her circumstance and the weakness she displayed in it.

Hours of immeasurable physical and emotional pain was all it took for Sara to forget what security and protection really _felt_ like. The incessant influence of living dominated dying in that moment as she tried so desperately not to remember the last time she had woken up with Grissom's presence surrounding her.

Safety surrounding her.

Instead, she thought of the first time. And that last time really wasn't all that significant. Because maybe… there would be other times.

- - -

_And miles from where you are  
I lay down on the cold ground and I  
I pray that something picks me up  
And sets me down in your warm arms_

"_Set the Fire to the Third Bar" (Snow Patrol)_

- - -

Eyes had yet to peal open and Sara didn't really know where she was. The first clue was the heavy, foreign warmth pressed against her bare stomach. The second clue was the smell of the sheets, a clean and snug smell that she knew fairly well.

Yes, she knew exactly where she was.

She had fallen asleep on his chest; she remembered that, after being loved in the most remarkable way that she had ever been loved in her entire life, she had fallen asleep to the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear. She could still feel the persistency of his fingers lightly grazing her skin as she drifted peacefully.

She had to look at him. She opened her eyes and looked over to him. As she lay on her back, the sheets pulled up over her naked body, he was sleeping peacefully on his side facing her, his left arm tucked under his pillow and his right draped over her stomach.

An involuntary, but welcomed smile crept across her face and widened the longer she watched his features while he slumbered. She brought her hand to his hand that rested on her and caressed his fingers gently. His face twitched slightly and his eyebrows rose. She couldn't tell if he was dreaming or waking up, but it was certainly one or the other. She wanted badly to kiss any part of him. The giddiness and contentedness that she was feeling had built up in her body and she could feel it overflowing. A silent laugh escaped her as the result, as if she had indeed overflowed and her body couldn't handle this overload of absolute contentment.

Grissom's eyes eased open. They were already turned to one another so for a few seconds, they did nothing but stare at each other in silence.

Grissom's hand felt heavier and Sara shivered as his thumb began making small motions across her navel.

"Good morning," he said huskily, sleep still fully apparent and adding a childlike quality to his deep voice that she had never heard before.

She had never found him quite so adorable than she did in that moment: his sleep-laden voice, his slightly matted head of dark gray curls, the way his beard seemed to grow scruffier in the matter of a few hours, his narrow eyes that were still hesitant to let the sunlight in.

Her love for him exploded inside of her and leaked out through her eyes and through the smile that seemed a permanent fixture on face. To tell him how adorable and loveable he was, how much _she_ loved him, was what she really wanted to do.

She didn't, however. She simply replied, "Hi."

His lips turned upward in a little smile that she had seen many times. But somehow it just looked and felt different. It felt revealing.

She wanted to kiss the breath out of him, morning breath or not, and she wanted him to do the same to her. It felt as if she had done this, woken up next to him, a million times. It felt familiar and safe and perfect and she just wanted to know what he was feeling at that moment. She hoped his feelings mirrored hers, but she didn't know and for some reason that didn't seem to take away from the feeling of security she had and couldn't for the life of her remember what it felt like _not_ to have it.

She would settle for at least _feeling_ what he was feeling.

As if he had been following her thoughts exactly, Grissom's hand slid across her stomach and down to her left hip. He gripped her and pulled on her, willing her to turn and face him. His body inched closer to hers and her body inched closer to his and they met right there in the middle of the bed, chest to chest underneath the thin sheet. He stared at her, smiling slightly and she let him, feeling as though he was soaking up her very essence, the very element that made her, with his brilliant blue eyes. With every minute, or perhaps second, or maybe millisecond, that passed by, his gaze darkened and she felt blissfully weaker.

Maybe he really was soaking her up, his eyes pulling the heat from hers and his chest pouring it back into her as he pressed against her. But she was doing the same to him.

His leg slipped between hers languidly in a simple but beautifully intimate motion and his head dipped down and closer to hers. He place a soft, chaste kiss on her lips and Sara's eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him back with more pressure and more vigor. His fingertips glided across her back, his nails lightly tickling and arousing her, the same way the short hairs of his beard did.

Sound seemed to be inexistent, but she felt herself moan into his mouth as their tongues mingled erotically, slowly. He was so slow in his actions, his touches, his kisses, that her body was pulsing with restrained energy. But she wanted nothing more than to let him take control of her and love her the way he wanted.

His hands tugged on her as he rolled over onto his back and he pulled her atop him, his lips never detaching from hers. His hands wandered her body, his fingertips danced across her flesh creating pleasurable shivers.

They were silent and, oh, so slow. Deliberate and, oh, so intense.

Sometime in the night he had pulled his boxers back on, leaving her the only naked one in the bed. But it didn't matter because she kissed her way down his chest, down his stomach. She kissed his navel and ran her tongue over the skin just above the band of his boxers and pulled them down, freeing his hardened member from the cotton.

She had but to breathe a hot, involuntary breath over him causing him to moaned out her name and pull her up to him. Her body rubbed against his as she slid up to meet his lips with hers, a secret smile playing around her lips. Their bodies pressed together as they kissed passionately, hands grabbing hair, limbs tangling, his arousal pressed against her stomach just as his heavy hand had done minutes before.

They were still pressed firmly together underneath the sheet, when Grissom rolled Sara over. He pulled the sheet down, his gaze never retracting from hers. Desire and love, probably love, hung thickly in the air between them for a moment until he collided with her again and it soaked into both of them, fueling their passion.

Slow, wet, warm kisses over her breasts, under her breasts, down her stomach, her navel. Every kiss made her feel more and more safe and she wondered why this specific moment made her want to be as vulnerable as possible and why she couldn't help but trust him with that.

His head was moving lower and lower and all she could think to do was plunge her fingers into his dark curls and grasp for dear life.

She felt like crying, but all that escaped her were small whimpers. She felt vulnerable and barer than she had ever felt as she wriggled between his hands and the mattress, desperate to feel more of him. She bit her lip down to deaden the harsh moans from destroying the gentle quiet of the room. Finally, she was sent plummeting over the edge, and Sara swore she saw colors, a brilliant array of colors, that neither she nor anyone had ever before seen.

It was scary and pleasing how well he seemed to know her body already, only the second time they had been intimate, and she couldn't stop feeling as if she had done it many, many times before.

The mattress shifted as she felt him climbing back up towards her. Her eyes wouldn't open at first, but his thumb grazed her eyelid in a simple and affectionate gesture, willing her to open her eyes just so she could meet his and see the emotion there.

"Okay?" he rasped out in a mere whisper as he hovered over her.

Sara nodded, because she didn't dare speak, and brought his head down to hers, kissing him gratefully for how incredible he made her feel. His hands cradled her head as he returned the kiss. He lowered himself even more onto her and he pressed into her, an unadorned reminder of how much he wanted her and how much she wanted him.

His eyes opened to meet her gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a rare, impish smirk and he kissed the tip of her nose. She couldn't help but grin back at him as he planted another wet kiss on her ear, then another on her jaw line. The moment his lips touched hers, he entered her in one long and slow stroke. She moaned and bit down on his lip, but he continued kissing her amorously as he moved inside of her.

That was how it was, even as he dipped his head in the crook of her neck. He was unhurried and concentrated as if he wanted nothing more than to spend the entire day inside of her. His breath was hot on her neck, but he emitted no sounds, save the occasional moan muffled by her own skin. His hands were energetic where his hips were not. He couldn't commit to a place to keep them. Her hair, her breasts, her shoulders, her hips.

She kept her hands on his back, amazed by the muscles moving beneath his skin. She was burning and torn between wanting him to go faster and harder, and wanting him to take his time with her, slow and dreamy the way it was now.

Maybe he could spend the entire day inside of her. She wasn't so sure she would mind.

But her nails impulsively dug into the skin on his back, triggering him to quicken his pace. The moment his thrusts accelerated, he moaned her name into her ear and it was her undoing. She hooked her legs tighter around his. Her eyes were clamped tightly shut as the beautiful colors spilled around her eyes and she couldn't help but wonder if these colors were all part of making love to Gil Grissom. She hoped they were.

She felt his head lift from the crook of her neck and his movements stilled as her orgasm swept over her. Her eyes opened to find him staring down at her, a look of sheer adoration and amazement on his face. He began moving inside of her again and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down to her and kissing him as he let go.

She wondered if any fireworks in undiscovered colors were exploding behind _his_ eyelids.

He was panting hot breaths into her ear and clutching her as if she was likely to slip out from under him. Moments passed like this before he moved off of her, collapsing beside her on the colder side of the bed and pulling the sheet and the comforter up over them.

She bit her lip and looked over at him with a grin. He was grinning too and he turned on his side to face her. She wondered why he wasn't touching her and she still felt vulnerable and bare.

But she found that she… liked it, actually.

His hand picked up hers that was resting between them underneath the blanket. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles tenderly causing her to smile at he gesture. She had always wondered just how capable of affection Gil Grissom really was, given the fact that he was rather emotionally unavailable. Little gestures like this proved that he was even more of an enigma that she had ever thought.

But he was _her_ enigma.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" he asked, still grinning. "Come here."

She almost rolled her eyes playfully, but instead she just smiled and acquiesced. She scooted closer to him and he rolled onto his back, pulling her to him.

Moments passed and they were silent. His heartbeat thrummed against her ear and she found herself wanting to drift back to sleep.

His voice was soft and strangely fragile when he finally spoke, "I've never woken up next to someone before."

Sara felt and heard his heartbeat quicken the moment the words slipped past his lips and she could tell that he was nervous about admitting this. To help him to feel less exposed, thus more likely to open up, she didn't lift her head to look at him. Instead, she began tracing ambiguous patterns on his stomach. She was glad when he continued speaking, because she didn't really know what to say.

"I never felt comfortable enough to fall asleep so… I just didn't. I just laid there and pretended to sleep or," he cleared his throat nervously, "or I just left."

She pressed her lips together and felt at a loss for words. What could she really say to that? She didn't care in a sense that it was foreboding or intimidating. But she didn't feel as if laying there listening to his heart pound uneasily was a good idea either so she lifted her head to look at him. He looked unsure and maybe a little regretful for having said anything. She gave him a reassuring smile and hoped that he understood how grateful she was that he was telling her this at all.

"I wasn't always the one leaving though," he added in practically a whisper then his eyebrow went up along with the corner of his mouth in an ironic little grin. He twisted one of her long curls around his finger and pressed his lips together, looking as though he was about to laugh. A defense mechanism that she had yet to experience from him.

She shrugged and smiled back. After a moment, she said, "You, uh, you weren't pretending to sleep earlier… were you?" She was still smiling because she knew he had been asleep, she had felt it. But it was all she could think to say to bring the conversation back to the present, where it mattered. So that _he_ knew that the present was all that mattered.

His face went serious and he twisted the curl around his finger again. He pursed his lips and shook his head from side to side ever so slightly. "I was asleep."

"I thought so."

He smiled and brought her lips down to his. He whispered, "A very," he kissed her slowly, "peaceful," he kissed her again, "sleep." His lips slid over hers ardently as his arms encompassed her in a warm, protecting embrace.

- - -

For the first time, she had the impulse to pray to a deity she never really believed existed and she wondered why, if she never believed, she should feel compelled to believe now. She figured that maybe she did believe after all, after all it couldn't hurt, and that there was something or someone out there that could just _fix_ all of this and she would wake up next to Grissom, next to love, _her _love.

So she prayed like she had prayed when she was a naïve little girl.

And _then_ she saw the lights.

_To Be Continued…_


	9. There, There

**Chapter Nine: There, There**

Grissom's eyes darted open when he realized he had fallen asleep. They immediately found Sara's reclined body on the hospital bed a few feet from him. His reading glasses were slipping from his nose, a crossword puzzle book was slipping from his hands and he was slipping from the chair. He took his glasses off and set them and the book on the table beside him. Quietly, he situated himself in the chair more comfortably, never taking his eyes from Sara.

Her chest was rising and falling in the same steady rhythm that had hypnotized him into sleep and her eyes were still closed. She looked fragile and worn, but still beautiful. He stood up and walked to her bedside to gaze at her features closely. There was a clean, strangely shaped cut just above her right eyebrow and her lips were curled upward in a hardly noticeable smile. Her face looked tense as if she was using the muscles. She didn't look like she was in the midst of slumber. Not at all.

Her eyes opened quickly and Grissom gasped in sheer surprise as his face fell. She hadn't been sleeping at all. He felt his eyes widen and chastised himself for gaping at her when he should have been smiling kindly and lovingly. That had been what he wanted to do, but now he just felt dumb and rigid.

She was staring at him, her features soft and lovely. The smile that had barely been fixed on her face had grown slightly and her eyes were alert. She cleared her throat and licked her dry lips. "Hey there," she said to him, relief evident in her tone.

Grissom just looked at her, vaguely aware that he should say something. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words followed. Instead he sighed and shook his head from side to side without really knowing why. He was disbelieving of something and she saw it. Her smile widened and she nodded back at him.

"You found me," she said quietly, suddenly looking very serious.

He looked down at her right hand that rested on the bed. It looked smaller and pale against the dark tan blanket. He lifted his own hand and dropped it onto the blanket beside hers. He hadn't touched her very much even since being alone with her. For a reason he was ashamed of, he couldn't seem to touch or even look at her much. He was afraid he would break down and he was rather sorry that he would feel so ashamed to show his emotions. After all, didn't Sara deserve it? They had found her alive and she was going to be okay and Sara _deserved_ to see just how grateful he was. But he just couldn't and he was ashamed of that.

But his need to touch her now, to feel the tangible evidence that she was alive and warm, became overwhelming. He covered her hand with his in a quick and desperate motion, causing her to start. To his dismay, her hand was cold and dry, but he gripped it tighter and slid his fingers down to find the pulse underneath her wrist. Feeling the faint, steady beat against his skin, something softened inside of him. He looked back up at her and brought her hand up to his lips, laying a tender kiss on the top of her hand.

"Your hand is cold," he said shakily. A sad smile crossed his face.

"At least it isn't broken," she replied with alarming flippancy, holding up her left hand to reveal her cast. She let it fall to the bed and her smile was replaced by a wince.

"Careful," he said seriously and she placed the smile back on her face. It seemed real, but he was sure that its origin was sadness and uncertainty. Grissom pressed his lips together, unsure of how to accept her cavalier demeanor.

They stared at each other and with each passing second, Sara's face fell into a cheerless expression. A sizeable lump formed in Grissom's throat that he tried to force down, but the longer his gaze held hers, the more it grew. The moment her lip quivered, his heart shattered into a million pieces, spreading sharp pangs of raw emotion throughout his entire body and he could no longer contain himself. His movements were slow and heavy as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into an intense embrace, whispering, "So much, I love you so much."

He wasn't very aware of himself, his words or his actions, just that he was pressed against her and she felt warm and alive. He pulled her tighter to him and he felt her breath hitch, but he couldn't let go. Her right hand came up to move smoothly and soothingly through his hair. His forehead was fixed to the crook of her neck and although there were no tears to speak of, he was crying on the inside and saying a prayer of thanks to whomever was listening. She was whispering into his ear, "I'm fine, we're fine," over and over again but he couldn't let go.

The moment he had connected to her, he had felt whole again. As if she had literally taken possession of his heart, or something essential that existed inside of him, and it had been with her the entire time she was struggling underneath that car in the middle of the desert. He could feel it sinking back into him and completing him again. Him, just as he was, before the idea of living life without her, _utterly and absolutely without her_, had streamed through his veins like an infection and crippled him in any way imaginable.

It was scary how intense his love for her seemed to pulse through him in that moment. He never imagined feeling this way about anyone.

As her hand glided over his back, he loosened his grip slightly. He felt her swallow and he almost extracted himself, but his body wouldn't move. She didn't seem to mind and she wasn't crying and he _needed_ this.

Sara had said to him, some time ago, that they weren't "there" yet.

And maybe they hadn't been.

But he was certainly there now and, hopefully, she was right there with him.

- - -

_Come on, in spite of this we're doing just fine  
Even diamonds start as coal  
Give us time to shine  
Even diamonds start as coal_

"_Diamonds and Coal" (Incubus)_

- - -

Grissom reached his hand out along the sheet and it hit a cold pillow on Sara's side of the bed. He opened his eyes and pulled the pillow to him, rolling over onto his back. He heard the faint sound of the constant thump and hum of the clothes dryer and the smell of a baking cake invaded his nostrils. It was all very pleasingly domestic and more than made up for waking up alone.

It was good, so _good_, to be home.

With a smile on his face, he extracted himself from the bed and walked the short distance to the bathroom attached to Sara's bedroom. The sight of his dark red toothbrush beside her lavender one caused his smile to grow. When he finished his bathroom rituals, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt then opened the door to the living area to find Sara.

Sara was nowhere in sight, but the cake smell was thick in the air. He walked into the kitchen and peered into the oven at the cake. It was rising quite nicely and he realized that he had never seen Sara bake a cake before, but she always surprised him. She was actually a very good cook.

He heard the doorknob turn and Sara walked into the apartment, flipping through a handful of mail and muttering to herself over the "junk" in her mailbox. Her head lifted and she smiled at him warmly. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty," she teased, throwing the mail on the counter unceremoniously.

He grinned and closed the distance between them, placing a small kiss on her lips. "Hello."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did."

Grissom leaned back down and began placing short, sweet kisses on her lips as his hands came up to hold her head in place. She laughed against his lips and he silenced her with a long, passionate kiss. She returned the kiss with just as much vigor and the moment she placed her hands on his back, he pushed her against the counter with careful force. She laughed happily into his mouth and his lips began a provoking path down her neck. He could feel his arousal growing and so did she because she gave a short chuckle and pushed him back, glancing down between them. She looked back into his eyes and pursed her lips.

"There will be none of _that_," she said good-naturedly. "You don't want my cake to cave in do you?"

Grissom gave a wry grin then his face turned mockingly serious. "It will still taste splendid, I'm sure."

Sara rolled her eyes and smiled. "Actually, I think it's done." She brushed past him, planting the slightest of kisses on his lips, and opened the oven. She pulled the cake out and set it on top of the stove. After testing it with a toothpick, she turned to him and said brightly, "Done!"

He chuckled, "What's the occasion?"

She shrugged and walked into the small laundry room. Grissom remained in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter, pulling at his rather scruffy beard. After a moment, she came out of the laundry room with a basket of clothing.

"No occasion?" he questioned again, truly curious why she would be baking a cake.

"Nope. Just bored."

"Bored?"

"Couldn't sleep." She walked past him and into her bedroom. He followed.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, knowing full-well that she would never have woken him up simply because she was bored and he wouldn't have done it to her either.

Sara dumped the clothes onto the unmade bed. She looked up at him with a puckish grin and reached a hand out to stroke his beard. "You looked so sweet and peaceful. I just couldn't," she said teasingly and pulled gently at the short hairs on his chin. Her brow wrinkled and she cocked her head to the side. "God, your beard is getting long. Keep it going and you can moonlight as a mall Santa this Christmas."

Grissom playfully batted her hand down and she chuckled back.

"Help me fold these, would ya?" she said, picking up a crisp, white t-shirt with an Olympic Paint logo on the sleeve.

He picked up a shirt as well and fixed her with a curious gaze, wondering about her strangely playful mood and also about his t-shirt that she had washed even though he hadn't worn it in over a month. _She must have worn my shirt while I was at Williams_, he thought to himself, and it brought a smile to his face to think of her wanting to be close to him.

But he wondered why, then, wouldn't she have just stayed at his house… if that were true. Maybe she just liked the shirt.

He folded the shirt in his hand and set it down. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her fold on the other side of the bed. She looked up at him, her face serious, and raised her eyebrows in question.

"What?" she said and let out a short laugh. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Did you really move all of your things from my place when I left?" he asked, "Or were you just saying that last night because you didn't want to come home with me?"

Her body straightened and she looked awkward all of a sudden. Her eyes averted from his and she picked up a pair of socks. "No, I really did, actually."

It felt as though all of the cheery, weightless air had been sucked from the room and replaced with dead, grey space. Grissom chastised himself for initializing such a serious and abrupt change in mood.

"Oh," he replied, his tone casual in effort to push the awkwardness from the room. "Well, that's okay. I was just curious."

"I didn't want to be there without you there. That's kind of the whole reason I'm ever there anyway. You. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like your place. Better than my place, actually. It's a lot roomier and… closer to work…" she was looking down at the clothes she was folding, rambling on nervously.

Grissom couldn't help but chuckle. It's all he could do when she rambled on like this. It was frustrating sometimes, but mostly adorable. He rounded the bed and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders tenderly and smiling to himself as her tension melted under his fingertips. His hands slipped around her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, hugging her against him, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"So you like my place better?" he asked, his tone light, and he kissed her cheek.

She leaned into him and covered his hands with hers. "It's roomier and—"

"Closer to work," he said, finishing her sentence with a chuckle.

She, in turn, laughed and nodded. "Yes. And closer to work."

He smiled and turned the palm of his hand up to lace their fingers together. They stood there for a moment in silence and Grissom kissed her cheek again, suddenly overcome with giddiness.

"So," he said as a preamble, but nothing followed. His heart sped up and he wondered why he didn't feel the need to think his question over.

"So," she mimicked.

"So… why don't you move in with me?" he asked and immediately felt her tense in his embrace. Silence, an unnerving and telling silence, followed his question, and his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. "Sara?"

She turned around in his arms, biting the side of her bottom lip, a painful look on her face. She place both of her hands on his chest and her grimace melted away into an apologetic expression. "Grissom…" she started and glanced away for a moment then back at him. Slowly, her words found their way past her lips, "That's… that's probably not a good idea."

"Why?"

He tried not to sound too upset, but he wasn't sure how well he succeeded when her face took on an even more regretful look.

It was funny how many times the mood had changed from cheery to dismal in only a few short minutes and Grissom hoped it wasn't a sign of her holding her anger in. They had talked about his sabbatical only six or so hours before and she seemed fine. But then again, he rarely knew what was really going on in her head.

"I just, um," she paused and slumped down on the bed in front of him. "Moving in is a big deal to me. Like a _really_ big deal."

He let out a sigh and sat beside her, placing his hand over hers, stilling them as they rubbed together nervously. "I know. It is a big deal."

"I think it's a bigger step than marriage," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in sincerity and she licked her lips, continuing, "Marriage is more like a symbol, but think about it… moving in with someone is the actual _act_ of merging your lives together." She gave an uneasy laugh and looked down at their conjoined hands.

"Sara," he sighed and tried desperately to fight off the wave of doubt that had overcome him. He didn't actually have any words and if he was honest, he regretted even asking her at all. He hadn't thought of it much, it was one of those rare things he had done on a whim.

_And this is why I'm not spontaneous_, he reminded himself.

Her head lifted with a new expression. A crooked, slight, smile was on her face and her eyes looked suddenly clear and bright. She nudged him with her knee and leaned on his shoulder. "Despite everything," she finally said, "we _are_ great together… I think."

Grissom smiled, turning his face into her hair. "I think so." He kissed her hair and she lifted her head to look at him. He searched her eyes. They were narrow and she looked hesitant, as if she couldn't find the right way to put her words. "But…" he said to spur her on, and lifted his eyebrows curiously.

"But… but we just… aren't," she took an even longer pause, looked away, then back at him ruefully "… _there_… yet."

Her words dropped like small, heavy stones. He felt rejected, but he felt even more confused.

"There? Where is _there_?"

She cocked her head to the side, as if perfectly willing to think up a long, philosophical response. "I guess… we'll know when we get there," she said with frustrating lightness.

Involuntarily, his lips curled into a tiny smile. "Well, that's vague," he huffed, the irony of the situation not entirely lost on him.

"You've rubbed off on me," she responded, patting his knee.

He could feel the cheer rushing back into the room, brushing past his face and spreading a genuine smile there.

"Now, if you would like to join me I have a cake to ice. And if you make the bed, I might let you lick the spatula." Sara stood up and pulled on his hand to tug him upward.

"Yes, dear," he said as he leaned down to place a short kiss on her lips.

She smirked and walked to the doorway, pausing with her hand on the frame and looking back at him earnestly. "And we will, Grissom."

"Will, what?"

"Get there."

They stood still for a moment as understanding sunk in and she walked out of the door, leaving him still very confused but oddly content.

_There?_ He thought, over an over as he smoothed the wrinkles out of the white fitted sheet.

- - -

Grissom finally released his grip on her and pulled back. Worry and sympathy were etched into her features and he wondered about how he must look to her in this moment because he felt like a wet rag, filled with desperation and sorrow that had been rung out. Now he felt rather limp and flimsy. Happy, even.

His hands held her arms and he leaned back in to place a tender kiss on her lips. The sound of her whimpering caused him to deepen the kiss as his hand came up to the side of her face, his thumb affectionately stroking her ear and her cheek. He felt completely melted into her, completely merged.

He pulled back and smiled with a compelling flicker of love and affection in his eyes. "Move in with me," he said, more of a statement than a question.

Though she didn't answer right away, her face didn't change, as if she expected him to say this all along. He grazed the cut above her eye with his thumb, awaiting her answer, and looked at it curiously. His eyes found their way back to hers.

She was smiling, this time a real smile, and she nodded. "Okay."

_To Be Continued…_


	10. In Retrospect

I just wanna say thanks to everyone who read and especially reviewed. Your comments have meant a lot to me and this has been a fun story to write, though it took longer than I had thought it would. I apologize for this chapter taking like… friggin 3 weeks but I have been uber busy. Plus I had to get my ficathon entry done. But here is the last chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: In Retrospect**

Sara sat, legs stretched in front of her, in the middle of her bedroom floor. Half-packed boxes were strewn about her room, giving her a slightly anxious feeling. It was almost a month after her abduction and near death in the Mojave Desert and she and Grissom were finally going to start moving her things from her place to his.

She lay down on the floor and looked underneath her bed. There were various shoeboxes and a slim, Rubbermaid box neatly arranged and she stuck an arm in and tugged the Rubbermaid box out from under the bed. After straightening herself, she unlatched the top and peered in, unsure of exactly what she would find.

Stacked efficiently were file folders with precise labels of different courses Sara had taken in college. She flipped the top one open that read "Relativity and Cosmology," and her eyes glanced over the piece of paper on top. It was the syllabus from the class, all five pages of it, still in perfect condition as if she had taken the class only several months ago instead of fifteen or so years ago.

Sara chuckled to herself and flipped through the other folders. All of the papers were exactly the same way. She had always been very tidy.

_Except…_

She smiled at the memory and reclined down on the floor again to examine the contents underneath the bed. Sure enough, there was a rather tattered blue and white Adidas shoebox. She pulled it out with a little effort and sat back up, setting the box gingerly on her lap. She lifted the top of the box. Sure enough, there was the folded up piece of paper tucked in between a worn photo of her and her brother at a pool somewhere she couldn't remember, and a Cranberries concert ticket. It was folded so it was small enough to fit into the box with all of her other worn, special possessions. It had been a long while since she had looked at the contents of this box, but all of the carefully placed objects looked as familiar to her as if she looked at them every day.

Sara pulled the folded paper from the box and stretched it out. It was the syllabus from the week-long forensics seminar Grissom had taught in San Francisco.

The first time they had met.

A broad smile crossed her lips as she skimmed the familiar words on the page. She remembered the day clearly. It was one of her fondest memories.

- - -

Nervously, she tapped the pen against the top of the desk as she watched the students clear the room. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked down at the syllabus in front of her. It wasn't much of a syllabus. It was only a one-week seminar on techniques in forensics, so it was only a few pages long.

It was a continuing education seminar, like a refresher course, that she was only taking for lack of anything else to do. She hardly ever slept or went out anymore now that she wasn't in school, so when the opportunity to attend a forensics seminar presented itself, she hopped on board.

Her co-worker had mentioned that she had heard the speaker before and he was pretty boring. But… her friend had been wrong, in her opinion.

Dr. Gil Grissom was anything but boring. The entire hour and a half that he had been speaking, her eyes had remained locked on him and her ears had taken in every word. He might have been a bit dry at times, but something about the way words rolled off of his tongue and the way he casually paced in front of the room… he exuded a certain confidence and passion that impressed her to no end.

She felt compelled to speak with him and scoffed at the butterflies that began flitting around in her stomach the moment he thanked everyone for being such a lovely audience and sent them on their way. She had asked a handful of questions at the end of the lecture, but she really felt the need to speak to him personally. She couldn't explain it.

So when everyone else that had surrounded him had left, she stood from the chair and walked the short distance down the aisle. He was fitting a few notebooks and papers into a briefcase, completely unaware of her as she neared him. She had reluctantly been sitting quite far from the front of the room, so she had only been able to make out his general features, but as she walked closer she couldn't help but admire how attractive he was. His hair was short and curly, slightly gray. He wore a light blue dress shirt underneath a dark sports coat. She stopped a few feet from him and he looked up at her questionably, seemingly surprised that anyone was still in the lecture hall.

She swallowed nervously and gave an equally nervous smile. "Hi… I just wanted to tell you how interesting I thought your talk was. I really enjoyed it."

"Oh. Well, thank you," he replied and smiled politely. "Those were very interesting questions you were asking, Miss..?"

"Sidle. Sara Sidle." She reached her hand out and he took it, giving it a gentle shake. She glanced down at his left had, looking for a wedding band. Nope.

His hand lingered longer than it should have perhaps and she couldn't help but feel a strange spark ignite inside of her as her eyes locked with his and his hand encompassed hers. She pushed the thought away, slightly disturbed by the banality of it,_ a "spark,"_ she scoffed inwardly, and simply gave him a courteous smile. He was smiling too and his eyes narrowed and he dropped his hand quickly as if embarrassed of how long he had held on to hers, but otherwise he remained unruffled. She bit her lip and wondered where the bout of awkwardness had come from. It was just a handshake after all.

He cleared his throat and closed his briefcase. "Well, Miss Sidle, it was certainly nice to have such an inquisitive mind in the audience. It makes my job seem a little more worth while." He gave a crooked grin. "Of course, your questions were a little advanced for this particular lecture."

Sara chuckled and shrugged. "What can I say, I was inspired." A few seconds passed as they smiled at each other and Sara wondered if he thought she was flirting with him then decided that he wouldn't really be in the wrong if he did because she seemed to be doing it subconsciously. "Well, ah, you mentioned entomology a few times and I saw on the syllabus that you're in expert in that discipline."

"That's right," he said without arrogance, merely to confirm her statement.

"I know a little bit about it, but not really enough. Unfortunately, we don't have a resident entomologist in our lab. But I think it would be important to know more about forensic entomology. I hope you'll go into more detail in your lectures."

His eyebrows came together and he cocked his head to the side, a questioning smile on his face. "You're a CSI, then?"

"Yes. That surprises you?"

A small laugh escaped his throat and he leaned on the podium casually. She was suddenly very aware of how attracted she was becoming to the man in front of her and it began to make her slightly tense.

He shook his head from side to side and shrugged. "No, it doesn't surprise me. I'm not sure why I assumed you were a student. I just did."

"Well, do we ever truly cease to be students?" she asked with a grin and watched as he raised his eyebrows.

"No… no I guess not."

Another strangely tense moment passed and Sara ran a hand through her brown, curly locks. She looked back up at him and smiled. "Yeah, right now I'm at the San Francisco Crime Lab. I have been for a few years now."

"Oh, okay," he said, nodding, "I consulted a case there once, some years ago. Nice lab, good equipment. Are you, ah, dayshift or nightshift?"

"Dayshift, but, really… I'm there all of the time anyway, so…"

"I know what you mean," he said with a casual laugh and an understanding smile. He grabbed his briefcase from the table and held it by his side. A gesture that she took to mean he needed to go.

"Well, I don't want to keep you, Doctor Grissom—"

"Please," he said, shooting her an earnest look, "drop the 'Doctor.' I've never been able to get used to it. And you aren't keeping me from anything." A smile crossed his face and he looked slightly inhibited for a moment before adding, "Actually… ah, I won't be able to go into too much detail when it comes to forensic entomology. It goes beyond the scope of this seminar." He shrugged.

"Oh, that's too bad."

"Yes," he said at once, "that _is_ too bad, but…" he paused and raised his eyebrows, "if you'd like, I'd be happy to go over at least the basics with you over the course of the week. When you have time."

She hadn't expected this and the prospect of spending time alone with this man made her stomach flutter for a moment, which she hated. Because, after all, the time offered was purely academic. She chastised herself for the ridiculous schoolgirl crush she was cultivating, but she reminded herself that there was something, _something_, different about this guy that she couldn't quite figure out.

So, she flashed him a thankful smile and responded, "Really? Wow, that would be great. Are you sure _you_ have the time?"

He gave a short and low chuckle, looking away for a moment. "To be honest, this is my vacation. I have nothing but time, Miss Sidle."

She pursed her lips and struggled not to appear flirty, but wasn't quite sure if she succeeded. "Please, call me Sara."

- - -

Sara was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of keys hitting the countertop in the kitchen and paper bags rustling. She smiled down at the piece of paper. It was hard to believe that the same man that had so politely and professionally offered his time to her those many years ago, was the same man that she was sharing her life with now. It had taken so much time to get here, so much effort. It had been rather painful at times, but in retrospect, it had been worth it.

To be honest, if anyone had told the young, lively brunette that the love of her life would be the mysterious older man that had taught her the basics of forensic entomology, she would have rolled her eyes and told them that it was an ephemeral crush. Her deeper feelings for Grissom hadn't really developed until she had come to Las Vegas and spent almost every day by his side.

Before then, it had been a casual friendship, a careless attraction that she had been completely capable of reasoning. She didn't know him really at all, but she admired him. His passion, his intellect. And of course, he was physically attractive. But it was nothing serious.

Until she moved to Vegas.

Sara shook her head and lifted herself carefully from the floor and onto the bed. Her legs were still kind of sore, but she walked as much as she could. Grissom liked to take care of her and he worried a lot. She kind of liked it, though.

Just as she sat down on the bed, Grissom appeared in the doorway. "Hey. There's a carton of vegetable Lo mein with your name on it in the kitchen."

She chuckled. "Thanks."

"Unless you want to eat it in here." He paused. "I can bring it to you."

"No," Sara said, shaking her head, "I'm sick of looking at this mess." She gestured at all of the open boxes scattered about the room. "I'm coming in there."

"Okay," he said softly, then added with a bit of carefulness, "Want some help?"

She smiled at him, a small, genial smile and shook her head. "I'll be in there in a minute, thank you."

After looking at her for a moment with a worried expression he tried to hide with a smile, he nodded and disappeared from the doorway.

Sara looked back down at the paper and slowly stood from the bed. Carrying the piece of paper with her, she walked from the room and into the kitchen. Grissom was emptying the contents of the Chinese food cartons onto plates and she stopped to look at him, trying to compare him to the man she had met on September 9, 1998. He looked older and a bit careworn, but warmer and she wondered if he looked warmer to everyone or just her. And she wondered if she had anything to do with the warmth, and with a bout of unusual self-assurance, she decided that, yes, she had.

The Gil Grissom she had met nine years ago hadn't been cold, but he had been a lot more closed off and much more enigmatic. He would always be a bit of an enigma, even to her, but now she understood a lot of what made him tick and why he experienced life the way he did. Back then, he had been less understood and she knew that that had sparked her interest from the beginning and created a bit of a crush.

Sometime after that, she could never be sure of the exact date or time period, she had fallen very much in love with him. Sometime, she had become excruciatingly aware that it was no longer a harmless crush. That had been the painful part.

But here they were now and he was in love with her too.

Grissom looked up at her across the room and his eyebrows lifted in question. He cocked his head to the side and a smile tugged at his lips. "What?" he asked her.

She realized she was smiling and staring openly at him and she walked slowly across the room, limping slightly, and leaned over the countertop across from him. She placed the nine-year old piece of paper down. "Check out what I found."

His eyes narrowed and he brought the paper up to read. He removed his reading glasses from his pocket and put them on. The moment his eyes focused on the letters, a broad smile crossed his face. One that showed teeth. The kind of smile that made her heart thump against her chest in little, quick beats.

"My syllabus," he said simply and looked up at her over his glasses. "Which you kept."

Sara shrugged. "Of course. I've kept every single syllabus from every single class I've ever taken."

His eyes glanced back down at the paper, delight still evident on his face. "So I shouldn't feel special, then."

Sara grinned at him and rounded the counter. He turned to face her and she gently removed the glasses from his face, placing them on the countertop. Her arms encircled his waist and he looked at her curiously with a small grin.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. This particular syllabus wasn't with the rest of them," she said, placing a kiss on his lips and leaning back to look at him.

She was surprised at how much she was smiling these days, in light of rather recent events. But she felt loved and happy and if being trapped under that car had taught her anything, it was that the precious time she had should be spent making pleasant and happy memories that she could look back on in times of distress.

Grissom pulled her to him and kissed her just above her right ear, then drew her into a loving hug.

"Grissom?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you remember about the first day we met?" she asked, her voice muffled by the cotton of his sweater.

A moment passed and he answered, "I remember everything about the first day we met, Sweetheart." He paused and began running his hand soothingly over her back. "You captivated me from the moment I heard your voice."

Her ear was resting just over his heart and she could hear the beats quicken as he talked. She pulled back, compelled to see his eyes, and looked at him. "Really?"

"Really," he said softly.

"Because I'd say the same thing about you."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, his hands holding her head gently, and drew back with a satisfied grin on his face. He took their plates from the counter and placed them on the small table a few feet away.

"I'm curious," Sara said while she walked towards the table, "If I had asked you to dinner in San Francisco, what would you have said?"

"Dinner, like a date?"

Sara laughed. "Yes. Like a date."

He contemplated this for a moment while he filled two glasses with water and walked over to the table. He sat down and took a breath. "I think I would have said yes."

"Honestly?"

"Yes. Honestly."

"Why would you have said yes in San Francisco, but turn me down here?" she asked as casually as possible. After all, she didn't want it to appear as though she was picking old scabs. She really was just curious.

He seemed unperturbed by the reference and he replied after giving it some thought, "I suppose because… I would have assumed that I'd never see you again after I left San Francisco. Therefore, one dinner with you wouldn't have been much of a threat."

Sara pursed her lips and smiled crookedly, twirling the Lo mein noodles on her fork. She understood precisely what he meant. "I see."

"That probably sounds bad," he said and frowned.

"No, it makes sense, actually."

He merely looked at her in question, chewing slowly.

"I mean, I was actually going to ask you out for that reason. I didn't think I would ever see you again," Sara said, looking up at him and shrugging one shoulder.

He swallowed his food and took a sip of water. "You were going to ask me out?"

Sara nodded, surprised that _he_ was surprised, and placed the forkful of perfectly twirled noodles between her teeth.

"Why didn't you?"

Sara took a long sip of her water and set it down. She laughed quietly to herself and looked up at him. She shrugged and gave him a coy smile, twisting the noodles around the twines of her fork and stabbing a large piece of broccoli with it.

_- - -_

"I know this is a lot to take it, but just bare with me," Grissom said as he leaned over the large corkboard with bow flies pinned to it in various stages of life.

Sara blushed, afraid he had seen her yawn. For the past five days, Grissom had been meeting up with her at various neutral places and teaching her the basics of forensic entomology and its uses. Some of the things she had already known, some were new, and she appreciated the fact that he seemed to genuinely enjoy instructing her. She tried not to read into it too much, that he was willing to take his free time for her. The more time she spent with Grissom, the more interested she became in what he had to say. Everything about him was beginning to fascinate her. Everything about him that she didn't know… she wanted to know.

But every woman was fascinated by a mysterious man, anyway, she thought, so she ignored the slight crush she was developing on the older man beside her and tried to focus on _what_ he was saying instead of _how _he was saying it.

_But his voice. It's just so inadvertently sexy. _

"Out of curiosity, Grissom," she said and he looked over at her, "Do you always carry this corkboard of flies with you when you travel?" She grinned at him playfully.

He straightened himself, his face inexpressive, and replied, "Of course."

Sara laughed and slid off of the stool, stretching a little bit. "Entomologists are an odd sort."

Grissom let out a small chuckle and turned to face her, leaning against the layout table. "You should see my roaches."

He was grinning at her, a subtle, but flirty grin, and Sara felt the butterflies flutter around her stomach for a moment. They stared at each other for a second while Sara gathered the courage to ask him to dinner.

"Grissom—"

She was cut off by the sound of her supervisor's voice, "Is that Gil Grissom? Well I'll be damned! Why didn't anyone tell me there was an entomologist in the building?"

Grissom turned around to face him with a crooked smile on his face. "Ted Leonard. How've you been?"

Ted stuck his hand out as he neared Grissom, a playful smile smeared across Sara's supervisor's face that she was used to seeing. She adored Ted, but he had the worst timing. They shook hands and Sara observed the drastic differences between the men. Ted was a short, stocky man with white, wavy hair and a full beard while Grissom was a bit taller and slimmer than him and his curly hair still had a lot of its natural brownish color. As far as personality went, these two men were world's apart. Ted was boisterous and loud whereas Grissom was reserved and subtle. But they seemed to be old, good friends the way they were talking and Sara didn't mind watching them interact because it helped her learn more about Grissom.

"I've just been helping Sara here," he said as he gestured towards her and the bulletin board, "understand the basics of forensic entomology."

"Well you must be boring her to tears!" Ted said with a laugh.

Grissom gave a shake of his head and looked over at Sara with a grin. "I hope not."

Sara shook her head and laughed. "Grissom was the lecturer of the seminar I attended. He was so interesting, I decided to hire him as my personal entomology tutor."

Ted let out a short and loud laugh, then his face turned suddenly serious. "Oh, yeah. That's right. I heard you were in town leading a forensics seminar. How's that goin'?"

"It went very well. My last one was this afternoon."

Ted was shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Lemme guess, this was your vacation?"

"Yes, actually," Grissom replied with a good-natured smiled. "You have me figured out, Ted."

Ted snapped his fingers and pointed at Grissom. "Some things never change."

A young lab tech leaned into the room and cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt—"

"No, you're alright. What can we do for ya?" Ted asked him.

"We got a hit, sir. Results are on your desk."

"Thanks Daniel. I appreciate it."

"No problem," he replied and disappeared down the hall.

Ted turned to Grissom and Sara and shook his head. "Duty calls."

"Of course," Grissom said in an understanding tone.

"But anyway, Gil, let me know before you leave town and we'll go out for a drink or somethin', alright?" He shook Grissom's hand again and gave a wink and a wave to Sara.

"Will do, Ted."

"Bye now."

Sara was reluctantly relieved when she was left alone with Grissom again. He turned and looked at her, his face still fixed in a reminiscent smile.

"He's quite a character," Grissom said, shaking his head.

"You're telling me," Sara replied with a chuckle. "He's great, though. A great boss."

She hoped Grissom would fill in a bit of information about how he knew Ted and how long. Or when he had been in San Francisco and consulted a case for the very lab she worked at now. She wondered had she been here and just never ran into him.

But if she had seen him, she doubted she would have forgotten.

Grissom turned back to the board and leaned on the layout table, letting out a long sigh. "Where were we?" he asked.

"Ah… actually," Sara paused and he looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. Suddenly, his eyebrows came together in puzzlement and he reached into his pocket, pulling out his pager.

He read the screen on the pager and looked back up at her. "I just need to make a quick phone call. I'll be right back," he said with a slightly apologetic look about him.

"No problem. Take your time," she replied nonchalantly. Inwardly, Sara rolled her eyes at the timing.

He returned a few minutes later with a slightly sad and hesitant smile. His hands came up in a helpless gesture and she looked at him with an inquisitive grin.

"Sara, I apologize, but I we're going to have to cut this short. That was my supervisor. I have to get back to Vegas as soon as possible."

Sara tried not to look quite a crestfallen as she felt, but she frowned anyway and nodded, "Oh, that's too bad."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry," he said, sounding just as disappointed as she did. Genuinely disappointed and she allowed herself to take delight in that.

Sara smiled and waved her hand at him. "Grissom, you've been very informative. I'm grateful. Thank you very much."

His eyes flicked downward then back up at her, that unhappy smile still settled on his face, and he nodded. "You're welcome. It's been fun."

Something had fallen over them that she couldn't explain what it was. He was casual enough when he spoke, but the way he looked at her made her think he understood the attraction… or whatever it was… that they were sharing. The room felt heavy and for the first time since she had shaken his hand days ago, Sara felt genuinely awkward around Grissom. She racked her brain for something to say to fill the uneasy silence, but couldn't think of anything so she looked at her feet and smiled uncomfortably.

It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like a lot longer.

Grissom cleared his throat suddenly and she looked up at him, somewhat embarrassed by her inability to appear offhand. And slightly embarrassed by the fact that she had spent only a handful of days with this man, and she was suddenly just realizing that she didn't want him to go.

She wasn't just disappointed to see him leave. She _really_ didn't want him to go.

It was… unsettling.

Sara took in a breath and gave the most relaxed smile she could, though she knew it probably looked rather tense. "Do you need a ride?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in question and her fingers tapping nervously on the table.

He regarded her for a moment, his head cocked to the side. His lips turned down as he turned the simple question over in his head.

"I mean… I know you took a cab here. I could give you a ride to the airport," she added, "If you want."

Grissom nodded and she watched his Adam's apple move up and down as he gave a swallow. His smile was genuine and appreciative as he responded, "Thank you. I'd appreciate that, Sara."

- - -

"I think it's a good thing, though… all in all..." Sara said slowly, her voice fading a bit. She glanced up slowly to meet his pensive eyes.

He pursed his lips and dragged the fork along his plate idly. "That you never asked me out?"

"Right."

Grissom nodded, vaguely a movement, and slid a forkful of food in his mouth. He was looking down at his plate and she wondered what he was thinking as the silence fell over them. His face was serious and he was frowning in his concentration.

A halting laugh escaped her throat and she realized she was smiling as she watched him think. "Aren't you going to ask me why?" she asked him lightheartedly.

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, and shrugged. "I agree with you."

"Oh." She frowned against her will, not really knowing why she was frowning in the first place.

Grissom's lips drew inward tightly for a moment and they locked eyes. Gradually, he grinned at her and cocked his head to the side. His eyes flicked downward then back up to meet hers quickly and she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Okay then, why do you think it was a good thing?" she asked him, grinning back bit by bit.

A slow intake of breath by Grissom immediately followed her question and he tipped his head backwards and leaned back in the chair, his hands absent mindedly tearing his egg roll apart. It looked like he was looking at the ceiling for cue cards and she smirked as his face contorted in concentration. He did this a lot when he thought it was really necessary to think his answers over and she always waited patiently for them because it was, more often than not, worth it.

"Because," he drawled out and leveled his head with her, "If I had had dinner with you… that would have been it. Dinner and… I would have never seen you again." He frowned and cast his hands up in a discouraging gesture. His eyes left hers and settled on the plate before him. He added a bit quieter, "I know that about myself."

Sara sighed at the sudden somberness and though her face might have looked sad, she wasn't. She smiled at him and leisurely removed herself from the chair. His eyes followed her as she walked over to him. Hands rested lightly on the sides of his face and she bent down to kiss him. She kissed the corner of his mouth gently and felt his lips move upward as he smiled against hers. Scooting his chair out, his hands found her hips and he drew her into his lap. Sara conceded and rested her head on his shoulder as he sighed and gripped her body tighter, his fingers lacing together around her waist.

After a long, intimate moment, Sara asked quietly, her breath against his neck, "Did you think you would never see me again?"

Grissom tensed and swallowed hard and she wondered when he didn't answer if he was thinking about some other time. Other than San Francisco. A time when she thought she would never see him again. That time seem even further away than September of 1998 and she was glad for that because she was ashamed at ever thinking she never would see Grissom again. That he wouldn't find her. She had a rough time admitting that she had lost faith while she was out there in the desert.

It had been rough.

But, she was hardly one to offer herself a little leeway so she just didn't talk about it and hoped it would just go away eventually. Sometimes it worked.

Finally, Grissom's rough voice broke into her grave thoughts and his quiet, sincere voice was heartening. "I had every intention of seeing you again, Sara." He paused for a moment then added thoughtfully, "I don't think I even realized that back then."

Sara lifted her head to look at him and smiled at how serene he seemed all of a sudden. Her fingers found the curls on the back of his neck and she lazily toyed with them and he pulled her in for a kiss. His lips fell on hers and she closed her eyes as slow, intense warmth encompassed her.

He pulled back and licked his lips, opening his eyes to look at her. A grin spread across his face and his hand moved from the back of her neck to cradle the side of her face. His thumb lovingly traced a path down the bridge of her nose. Delightfully, she pursed her lips and his thumb landed on them. She gave it a kiss and he laughed, pulling her back to him in a hug.

She laughed, too, and said, "I think you might have known back then…. If only a little."

- - -

"_And if you never stop when you wave goodbye  
You just might find if you give it time you will wave hello again  
You just might wave hello again"_

"_Wheel" (John Mayer)_

_- - -_

They walked through the airport at a reasonable pace. Grissom's flight wasn't for another forty-five minutes and Sara hadn't really offered to see him off, it had been automatic and he had seemed glad enough.

As they walked, conversation was minimal, but Sara didn't feel awkward and she wondered if he did. She really only felt a strange sense of sadness, like something irreplaceable was coming to a close. She wondered if he felt that too.

He glanced over at her with a crooked grin and stopped in his tracks. "Let's get some coffee, shall we?" he said and his voice had a trace of finality to it that settled over her, fueling her feeling of melancholy. He cocked his head when she didn't move or answer right away and jerked his head towards the small airport coffee shop, beckoning her, "Come on."

She smiled politely, but didn't make much attempt to mask her gloom. She berated herself for that when he pressed his lips together in a tight line and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Her polite smile turned into a lighter grin and she walked with him towards the slightly busy coffee shop. They ordered and Grissom paid (to "thank her for the lift") and Sara didn't protest, but thanked him sweetly and… liked how it felt to have him buy her _anything_.

They sat in the waiting area by the gate and Grissom let out an exaggerated sigh of relief when he sat down in the uncomfortable chair. He sat his modest carry-on suitcase between his feet and looked over at her with a thin smile.

Sara took a breath. "Thanks for everything Grissom, really. I appreciate you taking the time with me like that."

She _was_ thankful. She had learned a great deal from Doctor Grissom in the brief time he had been there. She had found a certain excitement and purpose in his presence that she wasn't quite sure she could ever explain.

"I enjoyed it, I really did," he responded wistfully. "So, you are very welcome."

He brought the small Styrofoam cup to his lips and looked ahead, swallowing gently. Sara took a moment to admire his form and features. Something about Grissom was unique and compelling. Perhaps _everything_ about him was unique and compelling. As she watched his tongue inconspicuously slide over his bottom lip, Sara felt a pull in her stomach as if an actual magnet inside of her was struggling to connect itself to him.

Distraughtly, she shook her head and tried to will the thoughts away. It would do no good to even acknowledge the attraction anymore. It was dangerous. In all probability, she wouldn't see this man for a very long time, if ever again.

The attraction would be fleeting, an impractical thing that she would think back on fondly when someone more reasonable and attainable had filled the hole.

Suddenly, Grissom frowned and slowly turned to her. His mouth opened and he looked down then back up at her, seemingly lost for words. When their eyes locked, though, she felt it—whatever it was—stronger than before. Something stirred and when he sighed, whatever words he had or didn't have passed between them as his acknowledgement of the oddly swift and undeniable attraction.

A short laugh, practically a sigh, escaped her throat and she smiled, not a fake one this time, as he looked at his wristwatch.

"Take care of yourself in Sin City," she said finally and her eyes narrowed as she stood. She felt like she was satisfied and now… she really should go. The smile never left her face and she resisted the urge to rattle off her telephone number and e-mail address. She also resisted the urge to politely tell him that she hoped to see him again. She didn't trust her voice to hide the sincerity, and perhaps urgency, of the statement.

"I'll try," he said and stood up as well. "And you take care of yourself here in San Francisco."

She nodded and stood still, unsure of what to expect from such a man as him. He thrust his hand out, a grin on his face. She took it and the warm reality of his hand made her groan with drear.

"Hopefully, we'll meet again, Sara Sidle."

"Hopefully," she said quickly. "Goodbye Doctor Grissom."

He gave a mock glare at the use of "doctor" and she laughed, glad of the breaking tension.

"Goodbye," he said, lower than she had heard before and another moment later he picked up the bag at his feet and turned on his heel.

When he reached the attendant and gave her his ticket, he looked back at Sara. She brought her hand up and waved. He waved back, a small, personal wave that, combined with the smile on his face, filled her with no small amount of glee. He turned and she continued waving weakly, even as he boarded the airplane.

- - -

Sara pressed her lips to Grissom's forehead and smiled against his skin. He squeezed her hips and she pulled back.

"Actually…" she said absently, extracting herself from his lap. She walked to the bedroom and ignored him as he called out to her.

"Actually, what?" he shouted as she rummaged through the box again.

"Ah hah," she mumbled to herself and pulled her finding from its place in the shoebox. She ambled back into the living room to find him patiently waiting in the same spot, his fingers laced together on his lap and his head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"Actually," she began as she unfolded the small, worn Post-It note in her hand, "I have proof that you knew you wanted to see me again… if only a little." She placed the yellow paper in his hand, knowing he had already identified it by the look on his face.

Grissom chuckled and read the note aloud in a low, murmur, "Sara, it was a pleasure to have met and worked with you. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you need help with a case or otherwise. Grissom."

Sara grinned. "Imagine my surprise when I got back to my car and found this stuck to my steering wheel," she paused and lifted the note from his fingers, reading it over again. "_Or otherwise_," she gave a short laugh, "How deliberately vague of you, Doctor Grissom."

Grissom nodded. "Yes, quite deliberately," he said quietly. "Quite deliberately."

Sara sat down in the chair beside him and stretched her legs out on either side of his outstretched one. They stared at each other in a companionable silence, complacency remaining between them.

Sara broke the silence with a sigh and said quietly, looking him deep in the eyes, "I thought I'd never see you again, you know…"

She knew that she wasn't really referring to those many years ago in the airport but rather her experience in the desert. She appreciated the camouflage that their conversation had offered her though. She wasn't really ready to talk about that yet.

After a long heavy moment, Sara began wondering if Grissom knew what she was really referring to. The side of his mouth turned upward and his face looked happy as he cocked his head to the side. His hand found hers on the table and he leaned forward, placing a kiss to the back of her hand sweetly.

"Well, Miss Sidle, you should have known better."

_End._

* * *

Note that my story "A Nightmareless Slumber" was the inspiration for this fic and it can be read as a sort of epilogue, eventhough I wrote it first many many weeks ago. 


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